


A Splatter of Ink

by simso



Category: The 100 (Novel), The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Blood, F/F, F/M, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:03:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3560546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simso/pseuds/simso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after Clarke Griffin graduates from high school, she manages to find her dream job: working in a tattoo parlor. She's starting from the bottom and her manager and mentor, Bellamy Blake, is wary of her image negatively affecting his shop despite her artistic talent. While Clarke struggles to impress Bellamy, Bellamy struggles to accept Clarke for who she is all while trying to learn how to run a business on his own for the first time. Slowly, paths start to cross and Lionheart Tattoos begins to grow. Competition arises between a neighboring tattoo parlor that threatens to put the Blakes out of business. All the while, new relationships form while old ones break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to preface the first chapter of this fic by welcoming you all and thanking you for taking the time to read this. As a writer, I've taken a rather long hiatus and this is the first fic I've written in several years. Unlike fics I've written in the past, I wholly plan to keep this one on a strict update schedule that has yet to be decided. As of right now, I am planning on updating twice a week - most likely on Tuesdays and Fridays - but that may change in the future. The chapters will be a lot like the books, where each chapter will be from a different character's perspective. I plan to cycle between four to five of the main characters which may sometimes be rotated out for whatever reason may arise. Also, a playlist will be coming at some point in time and suggestions will be taken if you guys think of anything you would like to add. 
> 
> UPDATE: Since it has come to my attention that the tags can be confusing, let me clear up shipping and character appearance in this fic. All of the ships listed will be featured in the fic at some point in time, but endgame is (for the time being) Bellarke. Characters that are listed will make an appearance at some point as well, either physically or by mention of name. There will be some appearances or mentions of characters from the books (like Glass, for instance, who will be a love interest for Wells) but there will NOT be any kind of spoilers relating to the plot of the books. 
> 
> I also fixed the format, since it was kind of wacky and I totally didn't realize. Thanks for those who pointed it out!
> 
> Constructive feedback is always welcome and I really hope that the readers enjoy this fic. It's definitely something I've poured a lot of thought into and I hope that I can convey what's in my head appropriately into words. Thank you for reading!

I N T R O D U C T I O N

* * *

            Every story has to begin somewhere. This one starts out like any other stereotypical teen drama – with a girl who is sure fate has brought her to the place she stands now. The wind tousles her blonde curls as she tilts her chin toward the sky; her bright blue eyes affix to a bold sign poorly fastened to a gray cement wall that reads **LIONHEART TATTOOS**. Through her headphones, the beat of some indie pop song swells. Her pale fingers tighten their grip around the handles of her large portfolio as it flaps restlessly at her side. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and as the song reaches its climax, she takes her first step toward destiny.

            When she reaches the glass double doors, she pauses and wonders if maybe this is a bad idea after all. Her internal monologue can’t be heard, but her emotions play across her face: apprehension, doubt, and then, a small sliver of confidence. A smile tugs at the corners of her lips. She pushes the door open with vigor and steps across the threshold.

            If this _were_ one of those lame movies, the indie pop song the audience might have found catchy would end abruptly with the scratch of a record. _Ah_ , everyone in the crowd would think in unison, _this is not what our heroine expected._

C L A R K E 

* * *

            It _wasn’t_ what Clarke was expecting _at all_. While the shiny new floors and counters may have given the appearance it was a “nice” tattoo parlor, the muffled screamo music playing over the stereo seemed a little much. A bunch of paper signs typed in a plain font were taped to the doors and counters, warning patrons that they only accept cash and you must be 18 or older to get a tattoo. _As if that’s not common sense_. To her right, there was a row of cases displaying various polished metals and colorful glass jewelry. The girl behind the counter wasn’t paying her the slightest bit of attention; she appeared to be idly perusing the Internet on her laptop, one headphone in, long legs propped up on the counter and brunette hair spilling over her shoulders. She _almost_ looked like she didn’t belong in a place like this, which reignited the tiniest spark of hope that maybe Clarke wouldn’t be seen as such an outsider here.

            There was a small seating area to the left with two purple vinyl couches and a modern black rectangular table. On the table, several binders were stacked on top of each other – the top binder had some word scrawled on the cover that she couldn’t read from where she was standing. Ahead of her, a long counter settled directly in the middle of the room opened up into a hallway on either side that led back to rows of closed doors.

            The boy behind the main counter wasn’t looking at her either – judging by the way his shoulders moved slightly, he was writing or maybe sketching. He didn’t look old enough to work in a tattoo shop; the smattering of uneven freckles across his cheeks gave him a youthful appearance despite his strong jaw and the array of vibrant tattoos she could she winding around his upper arms. His unkempt mop of black hair hung in his eyes. Clarke wondered how he could even see what he was doing.

            Taking several steps forward, Clarke swung her portfolio around and quickly extracted the pieces she had selected to show. She placed them carefully on the counter in a neat stack and pushed them toward the boy.

            “Hi,” Clarke put on her best smile and kept her tone even, fearful that sounding too cheery might come off as fake, “I saw an ad on Craigslist about your shop needing artists so I brought my portfolio by. Is there a manager available?”

            Two sets of eyes were suddenly on her. The girl sitting at the other desk snorted. Clarke could feel her ears getting hot with embarrassment, but she held her ground. Her blue eyes blazed with determination. For a long moment, the boy behind the desk stared up at her through the fringe of his bangs, unblinking. _Sizing her up._ Then, his eyes dropped back to his work.

            “No.” He shook his head in response. He quickly resumed his sketching – or whatever it was that he was doing.

            Clarke felt her stomach sour and she had to swallow to keep herself from feeling nauseous. “Okay. Would you happen to know when _is_ a good time I can drop by again then? Will your manager be avail—“

            Before Clarke could finish her sentence, the boy laughed quietly through his nose and, without looking at her, smirked. In that moment, he looked so much older – Clarke began to wonder if she had miscalculated his age. She opened her mouth to speak again, but this time, the boy spoke first, not even pausing his work.

            “It’s great you’re interested and all, but I can tell you’re not cut out for this line of work. So go home.” His voice held no apology. Clarke felt a hot ball of anger unfurl inside of her chest. Could he really tell just by looking at her that she wouldn’t fit in here? Did no one take stock in the saying “ _you can’t judge a book by its cover_ ” anymore?

            “I’ll let the manager decide that,” she announced defiantly, grabbing her artwork and placing it back into her portfolio. She turned to the girl – who was watching them both with curious eyes, alight with silent laughter – and addressed her in a pointed tone. “Since _he_ won’t tell me when the manager will be in, would you mind?” Clarke’s eyebrows rose as she waited, somewhat impatiently, for the girl to answer. The brunette’s expression changed slightly, her eyes becoming harder but her lips still marginally turned up at the corners in amusement.

            She nodded her head toward the guy at the desk, “You’re lookin’ at him.”

            Clarke whirled around to face him. So she _had_ misjudged him after all. The embarrassment that had threatened to flush her cheeks won out as her eyes fell to her feet. There was a sound that signaled a shift in someone’s position and when Clarke lifted her gaze, the man was standing now, showing off his muscular frame and height. It was rare for her to feel idiotic, but she did then, standing in front of the manager she had mistaken for a desk boy.

            It only took her a second to realize that there was no way she could have predicted this. Regaining her composure, Clarke ignored the heat in her cheeks and began to rummage around inside her portfolio for the stack of papers she had put away. Once she had found them again, she pulled them out and shoved them across the desk toward the man. “You could at least look at them.”

            There was a laugh threatening to sneak out between his slightly parted lips, Clarke could tell, but all he did was lean forward on his elbows and look down at the neat stack for a moment. “Listen,” he started, allowing his eyes to move from the desk back to Clarke, “I’m not trying to be a dick, but let’s be honest – have you looked in a mirror lately? Girls like you don’t belong in places like this. Doesn’t matter how good of an artist you might be, you’re not cut out for this type of work. You don’t have the _image_ we’re looking for.”

            Clarke didn’t appreciate being categorized as something she wasn’t. He obviously saw her as weak because of her appearance. She was far from that. She might not have as many tattoos as he did, and maybe she looked more like she listened to Taylor Swift and not Rage Against The Machine. But even if she _did_ fall into that category of the bubbly blonde who liked pop music and kale smoothies, it didn’t make her any less qualified for the position. “You don’t know what type of person I am by looking at me,” she retorted sharply, “Whether I’ve got the image you’re looking for or not, you should at least consider what I have to offer.”

            “I _do_ know,” he claimed, clipping his words short, “You’ve got confidence, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re _too_ innocent. You can’t take it personally. I _can’t_ hire someone who might look like they don’t know what the hell they’re doing. I’m sorry but it’s not gonna happen.”

            Now Clarke was fuming. He sure as hell didn’t _sound_ sorry. “Your logic doesn’t make any sense! I might not have much experience in business, but it sounds like a poor decision to turn down someone who obviously has the skills over a trivial detail like their looks.”

            He opened his mouth to rebut her statement, but before he could, the girl from the piercing counter had weaseled her way between him and the artwork on the desk. She snatched the papers up and began flipping through them. “She _claims_ she’s got the skill. There’s no harm in at least looking, Bell.” Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized each piece of Clarke’s artwork; as she reached the end of the stack, she turned around and slapped the papers against his chest. “Look.”

            Muttering something under his breath, he grabbed the papers and stared at the piece on top – a black and white portrait of a young man in a Navy uniform. It was one of Clarke’s best pieces and she was sure it would make a good first impression. That was the sole reason it resided on the top of the pile. The next piece was a detailed dragon, bursting with color. He lingered on this piece for a while and Clarke could see as his resolve visibly began to falter. Still, she knew this battle wasn’t over.

            Flipping to the third picture, his mouth screwed up into some odd expression that Clarke couldn’t read. “There’s no doubt you have the skill. Your confidence isn’t totally bogus. But…”

            “But?” Clarke’s jaw tensed.

            “ _But_ , and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, you’ve got no prior experience as a tattoo artist. As a shop, we’re already seen as _inexperienced_ because we’re just starting out. Taking you on would be a huge risk for us…”

            “ _Bellamy_ , give it a rest. The only way she’s going to _get_ any experience is through an apprenticeship. She could be a huge asset to us. People _will_ take us more seriously if we have talented artists, whether she has experience tattooing or not.”

            “ _You’re wrong,_ ” Bellamy hissed through his teeth, eyes still trained on the picture in his hands, “Besides, there are plenty of other tattoo places around here taking on apprentices. When we bought this place, we promised ourselves we would uphold the highest standard. Octavia, we can’t let just anyone come in here and—“

            “We’ll never hire _anyone_ if we keep going by your standards,” came Octavia’s frustrated reply, “Did you even look at her artwork? It’s _incredible._ Girl’s got skills. With a few months of practice, she might even be as good as you, Bell.”

            Clarke could tell that his once steadfast opinion was beginning to waver. His jaw slowly unclenched as he studied the rest of the pictures one by one. Once he had reached the end, he sighed in defeat.

            For a long moment, it was silent, a heavy decision pressing down on all of them. Clarke still wasn’t sure. This guy – _Bellamy_ – was unpredictable and it was obvious to her that he cared more about his vision than her skills. But after a minute of contemplation, he sighed again and handed the stack of artwork back to Clarke with chagrin. “Okay. Fine. You’re hired. But let’s set some ground rules first…”

            Through her elation, Clarke barely cared at this point what terms and conditions stood in her way. “Okay,” she nodded, smiling at him, “Shoot.”

            “You’re starting tomorrow. Shifts start at 10 AM. We open at noon. You’ll be working the desk until we hire someone for the administrative work. After that, you can sit in on clients. Once you’ve found your place here, I’ll let you have your first client. Could be weeks, could be months, could be never. It just depends on when I think you’re ready. I’m giving you a 90-day trial period here to prove yourself. We clear?”

            Clarke nodded. Those terms were fair enough. She didn’t expect to get anywhere _without_ proving herself. “Okay. Thank you.” She smiled at both of them and tucked her pictures away in her portfolio. “Tomorrow at 10.” As she turned to exit, Bellamy’s voice made her spin around on her heel.

            “You gonna take off without telling us your name?” He made no motion to leave where he was standing. He must have been waiting for her to realize her mistake. Sheepishly, she stepped back to the desk and held out her hand for Bellamy to shake. “Clarke Griffin.”

            “Clarke,” he repeated after her, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake, “Definitely unusual. Maybe you’ll fit in here after all.” His tone was teasing and Clarke was surprised that he had relaxed so much already. If it was any indication of what was to come, she had a feeling she would win him over without too much of a struggle.

            “I’m Bellamy Blake and that’s my sister—“

            “Octavia,” she completed his sentence. Clarke hadn’t even noticed Octavia had resumed her position at the piercing desk already, where she was back to scrolling through whatever website she had pulled up on her laptop.

            Bellamy shook his head at Octavia then waved Clarke off. “You better get home before your curfew, princess. See ya tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

            “I won’t,” she promised, hiding her genuine disgust at being called princess. The only time _that_ was acceptable was when her dad called her that – when she was like, a toddler. Now, at eighteen, it seemed a little juvenile. After a curt wave to the Blake siblings, she crossed the lobby to the front doors and stepped out into the chilly evening air.

            As she made her way across the parking lot, Clarke’s excitement began to bubble up in her chest until it reached her throat. She found herself giggling before she reached where her old blue bike was locked up; thankfully, she was out of the line of sight of the tattoo shop. She pulled out her cell phone and immediately began dialing her best friend Wells’ number. It only rang twice before a young man’s voice answered.

            “How’d it go?” Wells kept his tone neutral, obviously unsure if he should be excited for her or bracing himself for the possible fallout.

            “Well, it was… an experience,” she admitted, mounting her bike and pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear to ride, “But I got the job, Wells! Can you believe it?”

            His laughter filled the static silence suddenly and Clarke joined in, that happiness from before spilling from her. As she rode, they talked about the time she had spent with the Blakes this afternoon, how much of an ass Bellamy had been, and then, they made tentative plans for Wells’ first tattoo when he returned home. In return, Wells told Clarke about his day, which was decidedly much less exciting than hers, as she locked her bike to the rack outside of her apartment building. As she began to ascend the stairs, Wells groaned and Clarke knew what that meant.

            “I have to go. I have watch in half an hour and people get a little snippy around here when I’m late.”

            Clarke laughed softly. “Don’t piss off anyone yet. In a few weeks, you’ll be sailing across the ocean with these people with minimal contact to the outside world. You’ll be living in hell if you screw up.”

            Wells groaned again, but let the sound soften into a laugh. “Yeah, don’t remind me.” Then, his distaste faded away; Clarke could hear the smile in his voice and it made her ache to see it in person. “I’m happy for you, Clarke. You’re going to do great. Don’t take any shit from that Bellamy guy. You’ll show him up in no time.”

            “Thanks, Wells.” She laughed, but it sounded strained. “Don’t worry. I’m not. I think under all that hair and ink, he’s actually a big teddy bear…” She could hear voices in the background now and she knew it was time to wrap their conversation up. Her voice softened – with Wells, she wasn’t afraid to let her walls come down. “Miss you.”

            “I miss you too, Clarke. Don’t worry. I’ll call you tomorrow and see how your first day went.” Clarke could hear someone taunting him in the background.

 _Hey, Jaha, that your girlfriend again?_ She couldn’t help rolling her eyes at that.

            “Sounds good. Talk to you later, Wells.”

            “Bye, Clarke.”

            The line went dead before she could say goodbye. She held her phone in her hand and stared down at the end call screen. Despite all of the excitement she had felt over her new job, the overwhelming pain of missing Wells began to gnaw at the edges of the hole in her chest she could carefully mask when the sun made the world brighter. It was the darkness of night that always made that empty hole tear back open and no amount of good news could make her stop missing her best friend.

            Putting her phone in her back pocket felt like tucking away that pain for the time being. She reached for the carabiner keychain clipped to her belt loop and unlocked the front door of her apartment. Once she stepped over the threshold, she _had_ to put Wells out of her mind. She deserved to enjoy today’s small victory.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised an update on Thursday, but since I've made a decision about my update schedule, I wanted to go ahead and wait until today to publish this chapter. I want to say, first of all, that I appreciate the outpouring of support from you guys out there reading. I have received so much positive feedback, which makes me want to keep churning out chapters for you to read. That being said, I want to bring up the update schedule. Originally, I had planned to update twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, but because of the interest expressed by you guys as well as my own personal interest and investment in this story, I will be updating three times a week. These updates will come every Tuesday, Friday and Sunday and will be full 2,500+ word chapters. I've already started working on Chapter 3, which is where the story is going to start becoming a little more climactic. In the meantime, I hope you guys enjoy Chapter 2! Happy reading and thank you all again for being so awesome!

 B E L L A M Y

* * *

            “You made me look like a fuckin’ _asshole_ , O,” Bellamy huffed as he took the stairs two at a time. Somewhere behind him, he could feel his sister’s presence – mostly thanks to the sound of her smacking her chewing gum loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. When she didn’t respond, he stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs and turned to face her. She was giving him _that look_ , the one that usually read as _does it look like I care_? Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, he rooted himself to the spot and made it _very_ clear that he wasn’t going anywhere until she said _something_.

            It didn’t take long. A minute of tense silence passed between them before Octavia finally rolled her eyes and threw up a hand in frustration. “What do you want me to say, Bell? She’s doesn’t have what it takes? She’s bad for business? She _could be_ great if you train her. Don’t forget that _you’re_ going to be _her_ mentor.”

            Octavia was right about one thing: Clarke definitely had the ability, but in the state she was in now, she looked completely out of place in a tattoo and piercing shop. Bellamy swallowed around the thick knot in his throat and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I dunno…” was all he could manage at the moment. Some people didn’t have what it took – Bellamy had already learned that the hard way several months prior, when the shop had first opened. His first apprentice had quickly become a laughing stock and business had plummeted because of it. He couldn’t take any more chances, especially with a girl who looked like she belonged in some sort of weird vegan health food store instead of a tattoo shop. Besides, using a pencil was _much_ different than a tattoo gun.

            “Bell,” Octavia’s voice softened as she reached up to squeeze his shoulder gently, “I _know_ you’re still thinking about what happened with Murphy and _I get it_ , but you have to let it go. You’ve turned away _every single_ person who’s shown even a little interest in working for us for two months now. We can’t run the damn place by ourselves. You need to _get over it._ ”

            A bolt of rage shot through Bellamy at the reminder; she was acting like he didn’t know shit wasn’t going according to plan. “I _know_ that!” His ire was obviously starting to boil over, his tone becoming defensive as words he had been itching to say all night slid through his teeth. “I’m trying my _damnedest_ here, O. You _know_ I am.” He sighed through his nose and turned his gaze away, focusing on some random shadow stretching across the vinyl siding of their apartment building. “I just… I _really_ hope you’re right about Clarke. She’s got the potential, like you said, but people might think she’s a joke. We _can’t_ afford to lose any more business than we already have…”

            Cicadas crowed restlessly as the two siblings stood at the top of the steps in utter silence; the weight of the situation had set in and both of them were at a loss for words. Bellamy finally turned to head for the door, keys already in hand, ready to be away from Octavia’s gaze. His sister was his life, but sometimes, she could be a real pain in the ass – for example, at this _very_ moment. As he slid inside, he left the door slightly ajar for Octavia and, not bothering to even toe off his shoes, he headed for his room.

            Bellamy was thankful she didn’t follow, but that was Octavia. She seemed to sense when he needed to be alone without taking it personally. As he flicked on his bedroom light, he heard the squeak of his sister’s bed in the next room and then the faint tune of a song he didn’t recognize. He cycled through his nightly routine – clothes off, teeth brushed, face washed – before going to sit on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, thinking. He had no idea how long he stayed that way; by the time he crawled under the covers, there was nothing but silence throughout the entire apartment.

            For some reason, he couldn’t seem to leave the thought of Clarke alone. There was a seedling of doubt that was still trying to sprout in his mind, but behind his eyelids, he could see the crisp lines and vivid colors of Clarke’s artwork etched into his memory. He could vaguely envision her small, pale hands drawing each delicate line with such precision – not with a pencil, but with a tattoo gun. The visions were oddly soothing and, before he could let that worry coil in his gut again, he had fallen asleep.

            It was the first night Bellamy Blake dreamed of Clarke Griffin.

* * *

            In the morning, Bellamy woke before his alarm, his latest dream already fading from his brain. He pressed through the monotonous morning routine of showering and dressing before heading out to the kitchen. He skipped his usual breakfast today for some weird nutrition shakes O had bought at the store for days they were in a hurry. His sister usually joined him at the table but this morning, he knew she wouldn’t want to be woken early. Octavia wasn’t scheduled to be at the shop until 11:30 and he didn’t want to listen to her complaints about being tired just to have breakfast together. Not to mention, he didn’t want to spoil his surprisingly good mood; for the first time in weeks, he felt well rested and ready to take on whatever the day had in store for him. Knowing Octavia would want to take the motorcycle, Bellamy opted for the car – an old blue Honda that looked like it could use a new paint job – and sped off into the morning fog. As he whipped into the parking lot of the shop twenty minutes later, he spied a bike locked to the rack near the sidewalk and a headful of blonde curls waiting patiently at the front door.

            _Shit._ Clarke had already beaten him there and it wasn’t even 9:45 yet. He parked in a space at the end of the small lot before exiting the car and heading for the front door. When he was a few feet away, Clarke turned to look at him, a smile stretching across her face.

            “Good morning, Bellamy.” Her voice was relaxed, as if they had been friends for years. Bellamy felt the first tickle of irritation that threatened to ruin his mood.

            “Morning,” he muttered as he shuffled along to the front doors. With a quick turn of the key, the lock clicked open and Bellamy pushed the door open to hold it for Clarke. “Go.”

            Once inside, Bellamy immediately flipped the switch on the nearby wall that turned on the lights. Both of them winced as the fluorescent bulbs flickered to life above them, making the room too bright for their tired eyes. Clarke had stopped in the middle of the lobby floor but Bellamy breezed past her to hang his keys on the hook behind the main desk. When he turned to look at her, she was watching him with a wary expression, arms hanging limply at her sides.

            “Is there anything you want me to do?” she asked uncertainly, eyes flitting around the room as if she was trying to work out on her own what tasks were supposed to be accomplished before opening. Somehow, that was _annoying_. She reminded Bellamy of that girl in school who was the overachiever – always the teacher’s pet, who participated in half of the school’s clubs, played two different sports _and_ managed to become valedictorian.

            Bellamy shrugged and sat down in one of the chairs behind the desk. He kicked his feet up on the counter and stretched his arms above his head. “Not really. O and I took care of the cleaning last night…” He reached for the appointment calendar sitting on the desk and flipped it open to the correct date. Once he found what he was looking for, he frowned slightly, not bringing his eyes to meet Clarke’s. “I don’t have a client until 2 either so I guess we’ve got some time to kill.” He lifted his gaze to Clarke and motioned for her to sit in the chair next to him behind the desk. “C’mon, sit down. We can start your paperwork and training.”

            Clarke moved with purpose across the lobby floor; when she reached the swivel chair next to his, she sat down carefully and peered over at Bellamy with her blue eyes full of expectation. An awkward silence lingered between them as Bellamy stood and moved to the small counter on the wall behind them. All that could be heard in the shop was the faint whir of the lights and the rustle of papers Bellamy found himself searching through with a bit of frustration. Finally, he found what he was looking for – basic employment paperwork, like tax documents, as well as a brief list of the shops rules and regulations. He placed the papers in front of Clarke, along with a pen, before taking his seat.

            She stared at the papers for a moment before picking up the pen and getting right down to it. Bellamy sighed quietly in relief – at least she knew how to fill out basic paperwork by herself. Leaning forward against the desk on his elbows, he yawned and watched as Clarke neatly printed her information on the form on top. “While you’re doing that, I’ll tell you a little bit about the job and how we’ll handle training from here on out.”

Clarke nodded to let him know she was listening; Bellamy launched into his explanation. “Apprenticeships usually last three years and you have to get licensed. If you choose to leave at any point during the three years, you usually have to start over from the beginning if you decide to take up apprenticeship elsewhere, so keep that in mind. The state requires us to test you on safety standards and all that crap, so you’ll be doing that at some point. Once you reach the end of your apprenticeship, we’ll send you off to take the test for your license.”

            “Okay,” Clarke replied, expression blank as she continued to scrawl words across the page, “I can do that.”

            “ _Yeah_ ,” Bellamy’s tone was slightly sarcastic, “It’s not as easy as a lot of people think it is. I’m definitely not gonna make it a walk in the park, princess. I’m gonna make you work for it.”

            Clarke abruptly stopped writing and whipped her head around, brows knit in exasperation. “Can we drop the princess nickname? Seriously, my _dad_ called me that when I was a kid. It’s weird.”

            Bellamy bristled in irritation before laughing dryly and shaking his head. “Alright. Whatever. No more princess. Can’t promise you won’t get another nickname in its place though.”

            Clarke’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Is it so _unheard of_ to call someone by their actual name?”

            “During my apprenticeship, I got called all kinds of things. Wasn’t ‘til after I got my license they started using my real name. You get used to it after a while.”

            Bellamy could feel Clarke’s annoyance, but she didn’t say anything else aboutit. She simply turned back to her paperwork and masked her discontent. “So, what else?”

            “Like I said last night, I want you working the front desk for a while to get used to booking appointments and answering phone calls. It’s the best way to learn about the actual business part. As a tattoo artist, it’s not just your job to draw pretty pictures on people’s skin. You gotta know _everything_. The desk job can take a couple weeks to a month to pick up. Once I think you’ve got it down, I’ll start training you on using the tattoo machine and you can sit in on clients.”

            This seemed to please Clarke. Her eyes lit up as a smile crossed her lips. “You know, I was wrong. You’re not nearly as bad as I thought,” she joked, flashing a brilliant grin in Bellamy’s direction. He couldn’t help chuckling, his once hardened expression softening with a smile of his own.

            “You just haven’t seen me on a bad day.”

            “Ooh, I’m really scared…” came her sarcastic remark, her smile growing slightly, “Do you turn green like the Hulk? Or maybe you’re more of the broody type? I can _totally_ see your favorite book being _Catcher in the Rye_.”

            Bellamy scoffed, though it sounded more like a laugh, and shook his head, black hair sweeping back and forth across his forehead. “You’ve got some balls, you know that? Most people don’t talk to their bosses that way.”

            “Not to sound nauseatingly cliché, but I’m not like most people. Plus, you’re more like a mentor than a boss.” She picked up the stack of finished documents and handed them to Bellamy. “All finished.”

            Quickly, Bellamy skimmed over the papers to make sure everything was filled out appropriately before he filed them away in the folder he had made the night before for Clarke’s personnel files. He slid the manila folder across the counter into the corner for safekeeping.

After checking over her completed paperwork again, he spent an hour going over how to book appointments, deposit requirements, cancellations and answering phone calls until he ran out of possible scenarios she might encounter. Another thirty minutes was spent going over basic employee regulations. Of course, Clarke sat across from him the whole time and nodded her head as he spoke, only interrupting every once in a while with a question. Once Octavia arrived, she quizzed Clarke on what she had learned and filled her in on some of the procedures and policies over at the piercing desk.

            As the day wore on, Bellamy watched as Clarke began to settle in. She was a natural on the phone and with customers and she picked up the somewhat outdated booking system they used rather quickly. She was almost _too_ perfect at this. By the time they closed up, Clarke had successfully booked seven appointments, which was a staggering number compared to their usual two or three appointments booked per week. On her way out, Bellamy stopped her in the doorway, placing a hand on her shoulder.

            “I thought I could get out of here before you decided to subject me to some kind of weird tattoo shop hazing ritual,” Clarke teased, spinning around on her heel. She was already so relaxed with Bellamy that any stranger would have thought they had been working together for some time. It didn’t annoy him like it had that morning.

            “No hazing rituals tonight. We save those for Fridays,” he shot right back, fighting a smile. She appreciated his joke so much that she laughed and punched him playfully in the shoulder. He rolled his eyes in response, putting his hands on his hips. “I just came to say you did a pretty good job today, but don’t let it go to your head. Today was easy, but it gets more complicated when people start calling and asking you off-the-wall shit.” He didn’t dare add the lingering thought in the back of his head. _I was wrong about you._

            Clarke’s smile stayed plastered to her face. She tilted her head to one side, sending blonde waves cascading over her shoulder. “Did you just _compliment_ me, Bellamy?”

            His eyes almost rolled into the back of his head. “I can recognize good work when I see it.”

            “I would have never guessed after our conversation yesterday,” Clarke pointed out in a light tone, “But thanks. It means a lot, coming from you.”

            Bellamy waved her off. “Yeah, whatever. Go home. Read over that thing I gave you. We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

            Clarke nodded to him then leaned back in to quickly wave goodbye to Octavia, who reciprocated with a smile. As she took off, Bellamy watched her cross the parking lot through the large front windows. When her form had finally disappeared from his line of sight, he turned to find his sister watching him, chin propped in her hands. She was wearing a smile on her face that made him grimace.

            “What?” his tone was harsher than he had intended it to be, but he knew he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

            “What do you mean _what_? You know exactly what I’m going to say, Bell.”

            “Don’t.” He cut her off, holding up a hand. She was right – he could read it all over her face. _I told you so_.

            Octavia had emerged victorious, at least from this battle. Bellamy wasn’t sure she had won the war yet though. “This is why you should _listen_ to me. I know what I’m talking about, whether you like it or not.”

            Bellamy shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced out the window again, toward the bike rack where Clarke had been minutes before. “It’s only the first day, O. Doesn’t mean anything.”

            “God, sometimes I wish you would just _listen_ to yourself. Clarke was _great_ today! Bellamy, she’s a _natural_ at this! You just can’t admit you’re wrong.”

            Instead of getting angry, Bellamy kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, staring out at the bright sunset. Inside his chest, his usual antagonism was festering, but he knew it would be pointless to argue with Octavia when he was so unsure. He couldn’t convince her if he wasn’t _wholly_ convinced he was right. He stood there for a minute, letting the tension slowly dissipate, before he started heading for the counter to grab his keys. He wasn’t going to say anything else about Clarke, not right now. With Octavia tasked to close up tonight, he had an opening to make his escape. “I’m heading out. Lock up and we’ll take care of cleaning in the morning.”

            Just as he was about to walk out of the front doors, he could feel Octavia’s eyes boring into him, and he swore he heard her mutter, “ _I told you so_ ,” just as the door shut behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, readers! Thanks to those of you who are sticking around and welcome to those of you who might be new. I was very excited to post this chapter which is why it went up right at midnight. Octavia is a fun character to write! I had no idea I would love it so much until I started writing! As you can see, I paid a little homage to the canon Octavia we know and love in her dream sequence. Also, how does Lincoln know her name? Well, I guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out! There is lots in store for the coming chapters, with a bundle of characters to be introduced soon! As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy Chapter 3!

O C T A V I A

* * *

            In the depths of a dream, Octavia was lost, stumbling through a dark forest, the sensation of panic radiating through her body. If she weren’t so afraid, she would be surprised that she seemed to navigate the land so well. It was almost as if she _knew_ this place. Her hands brushed against ancient, moss-covered tree trunks as her feet moved swiftly over the uneven ground, hopping over massive tangled roots and squelching through mud still sticky from recent rain. She stopped when she reached the edge of a dark clearing; her body was telling her to proceed with caution, only allowing her to take one small step at a time. Slowly, she moved toward the center of the field, all the while looking up at the star-filled sky through a hole in the canopy of trees.

            Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, wind rushed around her, and as she turned to look around, she saw them. Blue butterflies, luminescent and glowing in the darkness of the night. In awe, she slowly moved forward, feeling a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She didn’t notice, as the butterflies floated around her, that a figure was watching her from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Far away, she could hear something that sounded like music, but it didn’t fit in this dream world of age-old trees and galaxies she could see with her naked eyes. The butterflies were swallowed by the sound, their delicate wings crushed under a rasping melody. Octavia watched in absolute horror as they fell to the ground, lifeless, before a flash of movement at the edge of the clearing caught her attention. The music grew louder as the dark figure approached, extending a hand holding a white flower toward her. As she reached forward to take it, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and then suddenly, everything was black.

* * *

            With a start, Octavia awoke to the sound of Billy Joel Armstrong’s rough voice rattling out the chorus of “ _Minority_ ”. Her bleary eyes struggled to focus on the bright red numbers on her alarm clock; as soon as she was able to make out the time, she groaned in annoyance. It was 9:30 in the morning on a Saturday and someone was _calling_ her, _repeatedly,_ on her day off. Picking up her phone, she stared at the screen in aggravation – of course it was her stupid older brother. He _knew_ she had the day off so why the _hell_ was he calling so early in the morning?

            She knew if she didn’t answer, he would just keep calling, so she pressed her thumb against the green ANSWER button and hoped he had a damn good explanation for this. Bringing the phone to her ear, she snapped at him. “ _What_?”

            “Good morning to you too, sunshine,” came Bellamy’s voice, tinged with a hint of laughter.

            Octavia rolled her eyes and propped herself up on her elbow. “I _know_ you didn’t call just to tell me good morning. Can you tell me what you want so I can go back to bed?” Her voice sounded hoarse from sleep, but still had an icy edge to it that let her brother know she was completely annoyed.

            For a few seconds, there was silence then Bellamy sighed. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, little sister, but I’ve got a job for you to do.” She could tell he genuinely was sorry, but it didn’t change the fact that she was furious she was going to have to work on her first day off in two weeks.

            “Okay,” O replied, sighing in the same manner her brother had moments before, “What is it?”

            Again, silence. She could hear the mocking smile in Bellamy’s voice when he spoke again. “It’s Clarke. She called a few minutes ago. Her bike’s got a flat and she needs a ride to work.”

            Immediately, Octavia became more irritated, if that was even possible. “Why don’t _you_ go get her? She’s _your_ apprentice.” It wasn’t that she didn’t _like_ Clarke, but she wasn’t O’s responsibility.

            “No one else is here to watch the shop. Either you come in and watch the shop while I go get her or you pick her up and bring her here.”

            Octavia weighed her options. If she went to watch the shop, chances were that she would end up staying for the whole day. If she went and picked up Clarke, she could make a hasty escape as soon as she dropped her off at the shop. There really wasn’t a decision that needed to be made in this situation.

            “I’ll go get her.” She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and stretched her arms out in front of her, phone pressed between her shoulder and ear. “Did you leave the bike or the car?”

            “The bike. I figured you were going out with friends or something since it _was_ your day off and all.” She could hear another laugh building in Bellamy’s voice and she could only imagine he was thinking about Clarke on the back of a motorcycle.

            “Okay,” Octavia replied as she stood and walked to the bathroom, flicking on the light, “I’m going to get ready now. Text me her address.” They exchanged a brief goodbye then Octavia was rushing around, throwing on a black crop top, a pair of ripped jeans and her riding jacket. On her way out the door, she made sure to grab both of the helmets from the coat closet.

* * *

            There was nothing like riding a motorcycle in Octavia’s opinion. To her, it felt like flying and that made her feel so _free._ Cruising along the streets, she was somewhat thankful that Clarke lived all the way across town from their apartment; it had been too long since she had traveled this far on her bike, with the shop only being several miles away from where her and Bellamy lived. The wind whipped against her skin as she raced down the back roads that would eventually lead her to Clarke. She was taking the scenic route – not for the landscapes, but for the distance – and the long stretches of trees and fields blurred past her as she edged her way around town.

            Once she saw the sign for Clarke’s apartment complex, she slowed down and turned into the driveway. “Well, I can’t say it wasn’t what I _expected_ ,” Octavia muttered to herself as she looked around. The place was _much_ nicer than the complex where her and her brother lived; there was a grandiose fountain in front of the rental office and an array of different trees, flowers and shrubs lined the sidewalks and lawns outside the buildings. The community was gated, but thankfully, Bellamy had gotten the code from Clarke and texted it to Octavia. As she came to a stop outside of the black gates, she punched in the number and ignored the people staring at her as they exited the neighborhood. The gates slowly opened and Octavia, against her better judgment, eased on the accelerator and made her way toward Clarke’s building.

            Once again, Octavia wasn’t surprised to see Clarke already waiting for her. She was sitting at the bottom of the concrete steps, looking around somewhat anxiously. As Octavia pulled into a spot, she could see Clarke’s confusion and she realized her brother must have neglected to tell their newest employee that she would be riding on a motorcycle to the shop. Pulling off her helmet, Octavia shook her hair out and called to Clarke.

            “Hey! Sorry I’m late. Got a little sidetracked!” She didn’t mention that it was on purpose.

            At first, she saw Clarke hesitate, as if a stranger had called to her, but then she stood from where she was seated on the stairs and walked toward O, smiling. “Nice bike,” she commented, eyes roving over the motorcycle admiringly.

            “I wouldn’t’ve taken you for the type to be into motorcycles,” came Octavia’s reply, grinning as she watched Clarke study the bike. It was obvious she hadn’t been in the presence of too many motorcycles in her life and she certainly wasn’t scared, but _fascinated_. That made Octavia’s job easier. She patted the silver handlebars with a gloved hand proudly. “It was my 18 th birthday present to myself. Nice, right?”

            Clarke nodded and Octavia laughed, reaching behind her to grab the extra helmet she had brought. She handed it to Clarke then put her own helmet back on. “Hate to interrupt your gawking, but Bellamy’s going to literally kill me if I don’t have you at the shop soon. Hop on.” She patted the seat behind her, still grinning. “If you like the bike this much, you’re gonna _love_ the ride.”

            Taking the helmet from Octavia, Clarke hesitated for a moment. A small, sheepish smile pulled up the corners of her lips. “Thanks for coming to get me. I know it’s probably out of the way for you, but my roommate and her boyfriend went out this morning and the bus doesn’t come out this far.” She put the helmet on and hopped on the back of the bike without a second thought.

            “Don’t worry about it. Today _was_ my day to sleep in, but I like you enough to help you out, I _guess_ ,” O teased, reaching behind her to tuck her hair into the back of her jacket. The last thing she wanted was Clarke getting a face full of hair the whole ride. “Plus, I didn’t really want Bellamy ripping me a new one. You know how he gets.”

            Clarke laughed in response, wrapping her arms around Octavia’s torso. “I _do_ know. Sorry that you have to live with that.” It was apparent that the joke was lighthearted; where Octavia may have taken offense if it was anyone else saying something like that, she laughed along with Clarke, who _did_ know what Bellamy was like. It may have only been a little over a week since Clarke had started working at the shop, but it didn’t take long to get to know Bellamy – at least, not the superficial aspects of his personality.

            “He’s not as bad as he lets on. Just kind of pigheaded, a little rough around the edges. It runs in the family, if you couldn’t tell.” The whole bike vibrated as O revved the engine, but she could feel Clarke laughing against her back. Octavia put the bike in reverse, backed out of the space, then navigated the neighborhood streets at what felt like a snail’s pace. As soon as they were back out on the main road, however, she throttled the accelerator and they lurched forward, gaining speed.

            While they plowed through the town’s streets, well over the speed limit, Octavia couldn’t feel an ounce of tension in Clarke’s body – even her arms were relaxed around O’s middle. She wondered as they drove if Clarke felt that same rush of adrenaline she did when she rode. They were two completely different people who probably came from two totally different backgrounds, but here they were, together on a motorcycle, speeding through town. If Clarke was afraid, she didn’t show it, and O could respect that. Clarke wasn’t the person her brother thought she was and Octavia would drill that into him until he believed it himself. Clarke was a _bad ass_ – a levelheaded, hard-working, versatile bad ass, at that. And most importantly? Clarke Griffin was _strong_.

            Octavia hadn’t been able to make her escape as planned, but it turned out to be all right. After their ride, O and Clarke gushed about their love for motorcycles for a while before Bellamy broke it up, deciding to drill Clarke over and over again about the proper way to operate an autoclave.

            Only a few clients showed up for piercings and a handful more came in to look at jewelry. When the sun was starting to set, Octavia stepped out to enjoy the remaining heat of the day. She shot Clarke – who had been listening to Bellamy ramble on about their competing shop for almost an hour now – an apologetic smile as she dipped out of the front doors. Once outside, O took a deep breath and leaned against the cool concrete wall. She couldn’t help smiling as she thought about today; it may have started with an unexpected and much unappreciated wake up call, but it had turned out to be a decent Saturday. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her iPhone and unraveled her headphones, putting an ear bud in each ear.

            As the opening notes of a Yeah, Yeahs, Yeahs song she couldn’t remember the name of began to play, she closed her eyes and let the heat from the sun sink into her skin. A whole playlist of songs had played before she finally opened her eyes; it was dusk now, with the last remnants of light lingering on the horizon. It wasn’t the chill of the early evening or the sudden silence in her headphones that had her attention now though. Several feet away, a man was standing there, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. Somehow, he seemed familiar. His arms and neck were covered in tattoos; maybe Bellamy had done some work on him before, she reasoned.

            Pulling her headphones out, she furrowed her brow at him. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, her tone sharp. Her day was going well and she didn’t want some creep to ruin it.

            He didn’t speak. Octavia started to feel panic settling in her stomach, hot and sickening. She glanced to her right, where the front doors were, before making direct eye contact with the man before her. “Look, if you’re not here to get work done or make an appointment, you need to leave.” She started for the door, hoping he wouldn’t try to follow her.

            “You’re Octavia,” he stated just as she pressed her palm against the glass of the door. She turned to him, confused. Did she know this man? She didn’t recall him and she _knew_ she would remember someone like him. He was incredibly tall, muscular, and _attractive_. It was rare that Octavia forgot about people who were _that_ attractive. Still, good-looking or not, he was being totally weird.

            “And _you’re_ a stalker,” she bit back, not bothering to look him in the eyes, “Now get lost. I have to get back to work.”

            “No,” came his simple reply, holding out a hand for her to shake, “I’m Lincoln.”

            Octavia stared at the hand offered to her then lifted her eyes to look at the man’s face, into his eyes. He seemed sincere but her body wouldn’t allow her to move. This situation screamed that this was dangerous but as Octavia stared into his dark brown eyes, she felt oddly _safe_. “How do you know my name?” she asked in a curious tone, rather than a frightened one.

            “It doesn’t matter,” he shook his head, keeping his hand extended for her, “All that matters is that now you know me and I know you.”

            That should have raised a red flag, but for some reason, Octavia couldn’t be afraid. She finally stretched her arm in front of her and shook Lincoln’s hand, smiling. “Okay, Lincoln. You might be a little creepy but you seem like a nice enough guy. I’m Octavia but you obviously already knew that,” she let her hand fall away, “Why don’t you come inside?”

            Lincoln looked as if he was considering it but he hesitated, stance suddenly very tense. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” His eyes were fixed on something – or maybe _someone_ – inside the shop.

            Octavia followed his gaze then scoffed. “That’s just my brother and Clarke. They’re both harmless. C’mon, come inside.”

            “I can’t,” he replied frankly, reaching one of his arms behind his back. When his hand came back into view, he was holding a beautiful white flower, which he handed to Octavia. “For you.”

            The delicate flower felt surprisingly heavy in Octavia’s hands. She stared at it for a long moment in surprise before she turned her wide, curious eyes to Lincoln. He was already leaving, his back to her, making his way across the parking lot. “Wait! Lincoln! Come back!” She took a step forward before the door opened behind her; Bellamy’s voice sounded oddly distant, even though he was standing right behind her.

            “What the hell are you yelling for, O? Come inside, you’re barely wearing any clothes and it’s freezing out here.” He put his hand on her shoulder.

            Octavia didn’t turn around; she couldn’t stop staring into the growing darkness, wondering if she had imagined the whole encounter. The flower in her hand was the only concrete evidence that she hadn’t hallucinated her conversation with Lincoln. “I’ll be in in a minute,” she said softly, staring down at the flower in her hands, turning it over.

            She could feel Bellamy’s eyes on her. He was quiet for a minute before she felt him shift behind her. His hand fell away from her shoulder. “Alright.” She heard the faint sound of his footsteps, then the door close between them.

            “Lincoln,” Octavia murmured, tracing her fingertips along the veins in the flower’s petals. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, eyes flitting back and forth between the flower and the dark parking lot, wondering if he would return. When he didn’t, Octavia tucked the flower behind her ear and headed inside, casting one last glance into the darkness

            Laughter was echoing throughout the shop when Octavia walked in, but even with Clarke distracted, Bellamy stared with narrowed eyes as she made her way to the piercing desk. As soon as Bellamy found a break in his conversation with Clarke, he crossed over to the other side of the room, giving his sister a stern look. She was twirling the flower between her fingers by the stem, admiring its beauty. She didn't acknowledge him at all; she knew he would start in on her whether she said anything or not.

            "Who was that guy?" Bellamy was trying to keep his voice devoid of suspicion and it wasn't working out in his favor. Octavia met his eyes then glanced in Clarke's direction. She quickly averted her gaze and tucked a strand of wavy blonde hair behind her ear, going back to what looked like reading. 

            "You two are getting friendly," O commented nonchalantly, gaze falling back to her flower. If he was going to act suspicious of her, she was going to call him out on something she knew would piss him off. 

            "She's my _apprentice_ ," Bellamy rebutted in a rough tone, slamming his palm down on the desk and leaning forward, "Stop trying to change the subject, O. Who was that guy and what were you talking about? I heard you yelling at him."

            Octavia's head snapped up and her eyes burned with anger. She mimicked Bellamy's action, standing, slamming both of her hands down on the counter and leaning close, only inches from her brother's face. "It's none of your _business_ , Bellamy. Fuck off." 

            Clarke was there suddenly, as if she had teleported, calmly talking with her hands. "Okay, can we not have a brawl right before we close? I don't want to clean the blood off the floor." Bellamy must have appreciated Clarke’s humor because he snorted, leaned back, and put his hands on his hips. Octavia took a seat and crossed her arms tightly over her chest, eyes flicking between the two of them. Bellamy shot Octavia one last skeptical glance before breezing past Clarke and into one of the back hallways without a word.

            Clarke's blue eyes followed him then fell on Octavia once he was out of her line of sight. She smiled at O, leaning casually on the desk to marvel at the flower lying between them. "It's pretty."

            At that, Octavia snatched the flower from the desk and studied it for a moment, completely silent. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet Clarke's. "You don't have to suck up to _me_ ," O's tone was harsh and resentful, "Why don't you go suck my brother off some more? I'm sure he'd _love_ that."

            "Octavia," Clarke's voice was soft, but not hurt, "I was just being honest. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. I wasn’t trying to suck up to you."

            Running a hand through her hair, Octavia sighed, knowing that she had been wrong to snap at Clarke. "Yeah, I know. I'm just..." she trailed off for a moment as she looked past Clarke, beyond the glass double doors, "He makes me so _mad_ sometimes. He thinks he's protecting me when he sticks his nose in my business, but all he's doing is being so fucking _irritating_! I don't need protecting but he's got this whole big brother complex or something, like it's his life's fucking mission to _coddle_ me like I’m still a little girl."

            Clarke nodded in understanding. "I know what it’s like to have someone constantly trying to protect you..." Octavia saw her throat move as she swallowed thickly and she wondered what kind of emotion was there, under the surface. Was it sadness? Her eyes looked as if she was staring past O at something far away. After a moment, Clarke refocused and a small, melancholy smile crossed her face. "I know I haven't been here very long but seeing you and Bellamy every day gives me something to look forward to. So, if you need anything, I'm here for you."

            Initially, O didn't know how to react. She stared at Clarke for a few seconds before nodding, her face serious. Then, a smile finally broke through. "Thanks, Clarke."

            Before Clarke turned to go help Bellamy with the closing duties, she glanced at the flower one more time. "Who gave it to you?"

            Octavia looked down at the white petals and she sighed, shoulders heaving slightly. "No one." But no matter how many times she tried to convince herself that the man who had given her the flower had all but disappeared, her heart told her it wouldn't be the last time she saw Lincoln.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge apology to all of those waiting for the update that was supposed to come on Tuesday. Things got extremely hectic for me and real life always comes first. However, I didn't forget about you or the update! It's finally here and there's another on the way! I don't want to get off schedule so Chapter 5 will be posted Friday. A friend who read over this chapter asked about the location and, since it's a very familiar one to me, I've sort of set this in North Carolina, somewhere near the Raleigh area. That's why the weather is so weird. We have 75 degree days one day and then snow two days later because we're odd. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I look forward to posting up Chapter 5 very soon!

C L A R K E

* * *

            Two weeks had already passed. Some days, Clarke felt like she had been doing this forever. The once tense atmosphere of the shop had become less so over the course of the last fourteen days; she was picking up on everything quickly, she was getting along with both Bellamy and Octavia, and she had been pulling in business thanks to her natural customer service skills. Still, it was disconcerting that Bellamy was still hesitant to pull her off the desk to sit in on clients. For the last few days, he had been telling her he was planning to hire someone to work at the desk, but so far, there had been no word on whether or not that was actually going to happen anytime soon. Clarke had never been the impatient type, but this was her _dream_. She was ready to dive right in – she just hoped she would float rather than sink.

            Her stress didn’t end with her new job – Wells had been unexpectedly deployed to the Middle East three days prior and he had only managed to send her a quick text to let her know, no doubt using his only phone call to get in touch with his father before being shipped off from Norfolk. The bitterness that filled her chest every time she thought of it made her lungs burn. It was like being in a room full of astringent chemicals and taking a deep breath, then holding it in. Sometimes, she would catch her eyes watering and she had to remember that Wells’ being deployed wasn’t a death sentence. That didn’t change the fact that he would be on the front lines of a war and there was always that nagging worry in the back of Clarke’s mind that maybe she would never see her best friend again.

            It was days like today that Clarke hated. An unanticipated snowstorm had swept over the East Coast, leaving almost half a foot of powdery snow covering every surface. It was beautiful, but it meant that the shop would be closed until the roads cleared enough for safe driving. When she had received Bellamy’s text in the morning, she felt her stomach drop in disappointment. The shop wouldn’t be opening until at least 2 and even that was tentative; with temperatures remaining below freezing all day and thick gray clouds covering the sun, the ice and snow on the roads would stay frozen until a plow came through to at least clear off the major streets and highways.

            So, Clarke was left to her own devices for the entire morning. Still clad in her pajamas, she made a bowl of oatmeal and sat down at the table to eat. She took her time, staring out of the large bay window that overlooked the complex’s courtyard. Her thoughts jumped from one thing to the next – which she was somewhat thankful for – until her bowl was empty and the sun had risen higher in the sky. For once, she was relieved that her roommate was somewhat messy; when she went to wash out her bowl, she realized the sink was full of dishes and _that_ gave her something to do. She busied herself with housework – tidying the kitchen, running the dishwasher, throwing in the little bit of laundry she had amassed over the last few days, and scrubbing her bathtub until it practically shined. Once she had run out of chores, she sat at her desk with a piece of the light blue stationery her mom had given her on her 17th birthday – paper that had remained untouched since the day she received it – trying to churn out a letter for Wells. No words seemed right and, seven balled up pages later, she left the desk feeling wholly unaccomplished and much more aggravated than she wanted to be.

            She was thankful when Bellamy texted at noon to let her know the shop was definitely going to be opening. Unfortunately, Bellamy had apparently let Octavia talk him out of making her come to work so she could enjoy the snow, so Clarke was responsible for getting her own ride to work. She spent a good few minutes wondering in annoyance why Bellamy couldn’t come get her in place of Octavia before she shrugged it off and headed for her roommate’s door.

            Clarke found herself standing in front of Raven’s room moments later, preparing herself for the conversation that would follow. She was sure that Raven’s boyfriend had stayed over the night before – something that usually wouldn’t bother her – and that meant the two of them were in there, together, probably naked. It wasn’t that Clarke didn’t _like_ Finn, but he was rough around the edges, somewhat of a troublemaker, and the two lovebirds were a little _too_ open about their relationship – and their sex life.

            Bracing herself, Clarke rapped her knuckles against the door twice and waited for Raven to answer. She stood there for a solid thirty seconds before knocking again, louder this time. Finally, the door swung open; Raven was on the other side, peering at Clarke with her head tilted to one side. She was tying her long, sleek hair up into a high ponytail and she was, thankfully, fully clothed. Behind Raven, Clarke could see a lump of blankets on the bed that kept shifting slightly. Her blue eyes snapped to Raven’s face as she opened her mouth to speak, ignoring the undefined blob moving lethargically in her periphery.

            “Sorry to bother you,” Clarke sounded truly apologetic, even if she could feel that itch of discomfort just under her skin.

            “Hey, don’t worry about it,” Raven responded with a smile crossing her lips, “I was actually just about to come get something to eat. What’s up?” She stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her.

            Clarke caught herself before she could breathe a sigh of relief. “I actually have a favor to ask…”

            “Okay,” Raven replied brusquely, striding down the hall and into the kitchen. Clarke practically had to run to keep up with her. “Go for it.”

            “Octavia is… busy today and can’t take me to work,” Clarke leaned against the breakfast bar, watching Raven dig around for a snack, “I was wondering if you could take me and pick me up today?”

            “Yeah, sure, no problem,” Raven replied instantly, pulling a granola bar out of the pantry and opening the package, “What time?”

            Clarke didn’t hide her sigh of relief this time. “Thank God. You’re a life saver, Raven,” she peered at the clock, “Bellamy’s opening shop at 2, so we still have some time. I don’t have to leave until 1:30-ish.”

            As Raven took a huge bite off the granola bar, she seemed to be contemplating something. Then her brilliant mind must have found a solution to whatever problem she was trying to solve because her eyes lit up. “That actually works out perfectly. I have to take Finn home anyway. I can drop you off then take him.”

            If only Clarke could find that oxygen she had wasted in satisfaction and suck it back into her lungs. “Oh. Okay. Sounds good.” She was trying not to sound stiff, but she had a feeling she wasn’t doing a very good job. Her indignation that had been slowly building over the day started to rise higher and higher.

            Luckily, it appeared that Raven didn’t notice. “Cool!” She grinned at Clarke, stuffed the rest of the granola bar in her mouth then whooshed past her roommate as she headed back toward her bedroom. “I’ll get Finn up, you get ready, and we’ll leave here in like, half an hour or so. Sound good?”

            By the time Clarke hesitantly nodded, Raven had already receded into her room. From where she stood in the hallway, she could hear their muted voices and their quiet laughter. Clarke had never felt so alone.

* * *

            The car ride wasn’t terrible, but it certainly wasn’t great by any means. Raven and Finn kept each other occupied in the front seat while Clarke sat in the back and stared out at the buildings that blurred together. They became a dull smear underneath an overcast sky as they sped by each long strip of stores and businesses. She didn’t realize she was being spoken to until she felt eyes on her. She turned to look; Finn was twisted in his seat, frowning at her quizzically.

            “You okay, Clarke?” he asked, his face too serious. What did he care? They had maybe had a handful of conversations since Raven had started dating him.

            She forced a polite smile. “Yeah, just enjoying the scenery.” Not that there was much scenery _to_ enjoy. Clarke hoped Finn wouldn’t call her bluff.

            He didn’t seem convinced. A somewhat mocking, lopsided smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Scenery, _here_? Might be exciting if you don’t have a personality… or a brain.”

            Clarke’s lips twitched in annoyance. “Are you implying I have a drab personality, Finn?” There was a definite edge to her voice, one that made Finn frown again and knit his brows together.

            “Hey, you two, cool it,” Raven interjected, taking a sharp right turn and almost driving over the curb, “You’re my two best friends in the world. You’re supposed to _like_ each other.”

            Clarke crossed her arms over her chest and focused her attention back on the buildings. Finn turned away, but every once in a while she could feel his eyes on her again. She didn’t have to look at him to know he was troubled by her mood, but it wasn’t any of his business anyway.

            Arriving at the shop felt like a miracle in disguise. Clarke bid her farewells to the two in the car, trying to ignore Finn’s furrowed brows and concerned expression, before speed walking across the small lot to the front doors. Bellamy was leaning against the wall outside enjoying a cigarette. Clarke grimaced as she approached.

            “That’s bad for you,” her seriousness quickly melted into a warm smile and a friendly tone, “Also, hey. I didn’t mean to sound like your mom or something.”

            Clarke hadn’t noticed that Bellamy’s eyes were on the car she had just gotten out of; when she turned to look, she could see Raven and Finn still idling in a parking space, kissing each other. At this rate, Clarke’s face was going to be stuck in a grimace. “Sorry about that,” she said as she turned her attention away from the borderline PG-13 scene taking place behind the windshield, “They’re in the honeymoon stage of their relationship right now. It’s kind of disgusting.”

            When Bellamy laughed, smoke billowed from between his lips. Clarke wasn’t sure if it was the vapor of his breath in the cold or the cigarette smoke. “I admire your honesty sometimes. You tell it like it is. I didn’t expect that out of you.”

            “Yeah, well,” Clarke’s mood shifted, becoming slightly more cheerful, “Most people don’t expect very much out of me and I like to prove them wrong.”

            “No shit,” Bellamy muttered before taking the last drag off his cigarette and tossing it onto the sidewalk. He smashed the butt with his shoe then nodded toward the inside of the shop. “I’m not paying you to stand here and socialize, Griffin. Get in there.”

            She breezed past Bellamy without a second thought, through the glass double doors and as soon as she felt the warm air rush around her and the lobby open up in front of her, she felt happy again. She felt at home.

* * *

            No one came by the shop that day, leaving Clarke and Bellamy to amuse themselves with stupid stories from their pasts and some training they had gone over seven times by now. When the sun was starting to set, Bellamy called it a day, knowing that the roads would refreeze with the dropping temperatures. He had offered to take Clarke home – a proposal that had Clarke almost speechless – but Raven had already texted Clarke, letting her know she was on her way. Bellamy didn’t seem all that disappointed about it; he had shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something about being able to eat dinner at a decent hour tonight.

            The two of them became so consumed in their conversation that Clarke jumped when the door to the shop opened, letting in a blast of frigid air. Whirling around, she saw Raven standing there looking around at the place, arms crossed over her chest.

            “Oh my God, Raven. I’m so sorry.” Clarke stood and started to gather her things, checking her phone discreetly to see if she had texted. She hadn’t, thankfully, which usually meant she wasn’t in a hurry. “You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

            Raven shook her head, her ponytail swishing from side to side. “Nah. I actually just got here but I wanted to come in and see the place.” Her eyes flitted around, scrutinizing every aspect of the shop, before her gaze finally settled on Bellamy. “Nice place you got here, for a tattoo shop. Most are pretty grimy, but I imagine with Clarke working here, everything gets _squeaky_ clean.”

            “It definitely helps having her around,” Bellamy said in earnest, pushing himself backward in his rolling chair then standing, “Clarke is our resident maid.”

            “I am _not_ ,” Clarke hissed through her teeth, eyebrows pressing down over her eyes in anger. Both Raven and Bellamy laughed; Clarke couldn’t help joining in after a moment, her expression softening into one of joy.

            As the last of their laughs had died away, the door opened again and Clarke immediately froze. Finn was standing behind Raven now, hands in his jacket pockets – he was looking at Clarke, but when he spoke, his words were directed at Raven. “What’s taking so long? You get lost in here or something?” His eyes lingered on Clarke for a second longer before his gaze flicked to his girlfriend.

            Suddenly, the aura in the room changed. The once jovial atmosphere became oddly tense. Clarke felt Bellamy bristle beside her and she wondered why. She guessed it had something to do with more testosterone in the room than Bellamy was used to. For a second, Clarke thought Finn may have narrowed his eyes in Bellamy’s general direction and she wasn’t about to stand here and endure a pissing contest between the two of them.

            “Sorry,” Clarke muttered, but there was no reparation in her voice, “I was just getting my stuff.” She stuffed her phone into her back pocket and clipped her keys to her belt loop before turning to Bellamy. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            Bellamy nodded and Clarke gave a curt wave in his direction before rushing toward the door. She wasn’t ready for the agonizingly long car ride home with the two lovebirds but she wanted to get it over with.

            As she started to push the door open, Bellamy’s voice caught her attention. “Actually, wait up.” When she turned, he was standing in the lobby, arms crossed tightly over his chest, examining Raven. Clarke couldn’t see her face from where she was standing, but she _could_ see how tense Finn had gotten beside her. Finn wrapped his arm around her waist protectively; Clarke fought the urge to cringe.

            “What’re you staring at, dude?” Raven was obviously peeved, but she didn’t seem tense like Finn.

            “I have a proposition for you.”

            Raven sounded interested when she spoke. “Go on.”

            “Clarke’s told me about you. Mechanical engineering student, right?” Raven must have confirmed this information somehow because Bellamy continued seconds later. “How’d you like a job here, working the front desk? If I’ve learned anything from Clarke, it’s that you’re smart as hell. I need more smart people here.”

            Clarke almost couldn’t believe her ears. Was Bellamy really hiring Raven on the spot based only on what she had said about her in the past? A pleasant warmth spread through Clarke when she realized that he must trust her word if he was so quick to make that decision.

            Raven struggled with her words. “Uh, that came out of nowhere. You don’t even know anything about me. How do you know I’d be a good employee or whatever?”

            Bellamy shook his head. “I don’t, but it’s worth the risk. I’ve learned recently sometimes you have to take chances on people.”

            Everyone was dead silent for a moment, then Clarke saw Raven’s ponytail bounce as she nodded her head forward. “I could use the extra cash. Plus, it’ll help Clarke out, right?”

            Once again, Bellamy nodded too. “Once we get you trained, Clarke can finally start training to tattoo.”

            “I’m in then.” She reached forward to shake hands with Bellamy. “Raven Reyes.”

            He took her hand in his and shook it firmly. “Bellamy Blake.”

            Clarke felt her heart swell. With Raven working in the shop, she would get to be around her best friend and she would also get to start tattooing. She could hardly contain her excitement or express her gratitude to both Raven and Bellamy. Of course, Finn’s voice came as an unpleasant reminder that he was still present and plainly against this whole idea.

            “Aren’t you being a little impulsive, babe?” he asked Raven in a protective tone, “You’re going to have a heavy course load next semester and this is a full-time commitment...”

            “So what? You know me, Finn,” she reassured him, snaking her arm around his torso, “I like a challenge. Besides, I can pick up more classes if I have a little money saved up and drop hours here if I need to.”

            That shut him up. He relaxed slightly beside her, but it was obvious he wasn’t completely convinced this was a good idea.

            Bellamy cut in, glancing at his watch. “Okay. It’s settled. We’ll start training you tomorrow. Now can I go home?”

            Both Clarke and Raven chuckled before they all headed out into the cold evening. As they walked to the car, Clarke glanced behind her to see Bellamy locking up and smiled. She had been right all along – Bellamy Blake wasn’t all that bad. In fact, she was starting to think he was better than he gave himself credit for. As she climbed into the car, the day felt less dreadful, and the car ride she had been anticipating with horror didn’t seem so awful anymore. Tomorrow was a new day filled with a lot of promise and that thought alone blocked out the bad irritation she had been shoving aside all day. Her worries from the morning all felt so far away as Raven pulled out of the parking lot, chattering away eagerly about the job. Slowly, things were falling into place and Clarke couldn’t have been happier.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I am a wee bit late on posting this, since technically it's Saturday where I am, but this chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I had originally planned. I sort of stole the basic idea for this from 1x10, I Am Become Death, but with its own little twists and turns. I'm having a really fun time paralleling Clarke and Bellamy's chapters so I hope you guys enjoy it too! Sunday is the next update - I'm so looking forward to it!

B E L L A M Y

* * *

            It came as no surprise that Raven was a quick learner. Training was going so smoothly that Bellamy already felt comfortable enough letting her run the desk while he was with a client or setting up his room before his daily appointments. On the third day Raven was scheduled to work, Bellamy had decided that it was finally time to start training Clarke on the tattoo machine – the workload had started to become overwhelming with his being the only artist in the shop and he could definitely use the help. He felt confident in Clarke’s abilities now, even if he still had his reservations. Clarke and Raven both were pulling customers in faster than he could keep up and his calendar was starting to look like a headache waiting to happen.

            To his utter dismay, Clarke called in sick for the first time on their first day of training. Raven confirmed this when she arrived at the shop looking exhausted, dark circles beginning to show under her eyes. Apparently Clarke had been up all night with a terrible fever and when Raven had left, it was the first time she had been sleeping peacefully since coming down with the acute illness.

            The day dragged on without Clarke around. At 4, Bellamy found an excuse to get out of the shop for a little while – he still needed to take the money from last night’s cash drop to the bank and his next client wouldn’t be in until 7:30. He didn’t want to spend another second listening to Octavia’s annoying music or Raven ranting about her latest relationship drama.

            The air was still chilly thanks to a cold front that was passing over them, but most of the snow had melted thanks to the sun. Bellamy was grateful for that; he hated snow, ice, sleet, or any kind of cold weather really. It was mid-March and he was starting to get tired of scarves, couples cuddling up close as they walked and taking up the whole damn sidewalk, and scraping the thin sheet of frozen dew off of his windshield in the mornings. As he trudged down the street, his body feeling somewhat heavy, he started to wonder if Clarke was doing all right. His throat tightened when he thought about her waking up alone, fever-addled and weak. Was she able to even take care of herself? What if her fever got too high and no one was there to catch it in time? Bellamy’s chest ached with anxiety as he recalled a scene from his childhood – his mother, lifeless in her bed with a still damp washcloth draped across her forehead.

            His pace quickened. Half a block down, he could see the bank, but it felt so much further away than that. By the time he reached the door and yanked it open, he was out of breath, cheeks and nose red from the freezing air. Only two people were in line ahead of him, but he still felt like it would take _too_ long – he would be too late. When he was finally called to the counter, he was in luck; Lily, the teller who usually helped him, was awaiting him with a smile.

            “I’m sorry to leave you with this, Lily, but I gotta run.” He pushed the deposit bag toward her and turned slightly with the intent to bolt. “I’ll stop by tomorrow to pick up the bag.”

            Lily nodded, unzipping the bag and pulling out the stack of cash inside. “Don’t worry about it. I can bring it by the shop on my way out. Go do whatever it is you have to do.”

            A sigh wheezed through Bellamy’s nostrils. “Thanks. I’ll see ya.”

            Walking out of the bank felt like it took an eternity, but as soon as his feet hit pavement and the cold air surrounded him, he ran. Once again, he was in luck; the bank wasn’t far from the shop and before long, he could see the familiar parking lot and his blue Honda parked out front. As he reached the edge of the lot, he stopped to catch his breath for a moment before heading to the front doors. When he entered, both Raven and Octavia looked up but immediately went back to what they were doing. Bellamy strode across the lobby, slipped behind the desk and grabbed his keys off the hook. The jingle of metal caught Raven’s attention – she turned her eyes to him, brows furrowed.

            “Where are you going? You can’t just leave. You have an appointment at—“ That’s when she took a good look at him and her eyes widened in concern. “Are you okay?”

            “Fine,” he wheezed, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. He felt somewhat lightheaded, but he chocked it up to the sudden increase in his physical activity. He circled back around to the front of the counter to lean against it, eyes on Raven. “Is Clarke by herself?”

            Raven’s eyebrows only knit together more, causing deep creases to form on her forehead. “Finn’s there. He said he would keep an eye on her until I got home… why?”

            For some reason, this didn’t make Bellamy calm down. In fact, it made him feel slightly more panicked knowing that some good-for-nothing was probably sitting in bed playing video games while Clarke was suffering in the next room. Finn gave him a bad feeling.

            “Cancel my appointment,” he rasped, throat burning presumably from inhaling cold air, “I have to go home.”

            “ _What_?” Octavia’s head snapped in his direction, eyes narrowed and angry. “You can’t jus—“ She stopped mid-sentence, her anger turning into worry, “Bell, you don’t look so good. You need to sit down…”

            As Octavia swiftly stood and moved toward her brother to no doubt restrain him, Bellamy started to back away until his back hit the door. “I’m fine,” he lied, swiveling around unsteadily and shoving the door open, “See you at home.” For the third time today, he was running, making a beeline for his car. His next actions were automatic – he wrenched open the driver’s side door, slid in, shoved the keys into the ignition, locked the car doors and clicked his seatbelt into the lock. When he finally turned the key to start the engine up, Octavia was several feet away, staring at him. She knew it was too late and there was nothing she could do. She watched as Bellamy peeled out of the parking lot then retreated back into the shop as soon as he was out on the main street.

            He wanted to feel guilty, but he didn’t have room for it in his aching chest. As he began turning down streets, he wondered if he was going the right way. He had never been to Clarke’s apartment, but he still had the address saved in his phone and he vaguely remembered going to a house party in the same neighborhood last year. Going slowly, he squinted at every road sign he passed, hoping he would see something that was familiar. When he drove for several miles and didn’t see anything that sparked his memory, he pulled over to the shoulder. Bellamy dug around in his pocket for his phone and when he finally pulled it out, he immediately opened Clarke’s contact information. The address connected to his maps app when he clicked on it; he put the phone up on his dashboard and listened as the automated voice began telling him which direction he should go.

            As he pulled away from the side of the road, his mind was feeling foggy, but it wasn’t hard to concentrate on the loud voice of the AI telling him to turn left, turn right, go straight, and take a slight right at the stop sign. It only took fifteen minutes to get to Clarke’s neighborhood but Bellamy had to wait a few extra minutes to follow in behind someone who had the gate code. When he found her building, he parked lopsidedly in a space at the end and practically jumped out of the car, almost forgetting to take the keys out of the ignition.

            His legs felt like lead as he trudged up the stairs to Clarke’s third floor apartment. When he reached the door, he leaned his head against it for a moment, relishing how cold it felt against his burning face. Then, as if he suddenly remembered why he was there in the first place, he rocked back on his heels unsteadily and knocked several times. When no answer came, he knocked again, louder, but there was still no sign of anyone. In a last ditch effort, he turned the door handle; to his surprise, the door gave way and opened when he pushed on it.

            “I’m comin’ in,” he announced in a hoarse voice, stepping over the threshold and into the apartment. Shutting the door behind him, his eyes flickered around the room. He was standing in the dining room and the kitchen was to his immediate left. Straight ahead, the grand living room was still; there was no sign of Clarke or Finn. Against his better judgment, Bellamy moved forward and called Clarke’s name while fighting off the urge to cough.

            _Maybe Finn had to take her to the hospital_ was his immediate thought as he aimlessly navigated through the apartment, looking for some sign of his apprentice and Raven’s boyfriend. He headed down the hallway on the left until he reached a door at the end. It was slightly ajar and when his eyes focused, he swallowed down fear welling up inside of him. Clarke’s name was written in her recognizable scrawl on a chalkboard fastened to the door. There were other things written on the board that Bellamy didn’t understand, like notes left by Raven and what looked like a smudged grocery list. Breathing in, Bellamy prepared himself for whatever he might find on the other side of the door and pushed it open.

            His stomach curdled, but not for the reason he had been expecting. Finn was sitting in a chair by the bed, one elbow resting against his knee. His other hand was stroking through Clarke’s sweat-soaked hair. Bellamy rooted himself to a spot a few feet inside the door and stared, nostrils flaring in anger. His jaw automatically clenched as he watched Finn’s fingertips stray from her hair for a moment to touch her cheek tenderly. Bellamy could have vomited from the quivering rage that had settled in his gut.

            “What are you doing?” Bellamy’s gravelly voice sounded weird to him, almost like it belonged to someone else. Finn startled and contorted in his chair to stare wide-eyed at Bellamy; it was apparent he had been caught doing something he probably shouldn’t have been.

            “Bellamy?” his shocked expression suddenly changed into one of confusion as he got up from his seat, “What are _you_ doing?”

            “I came to see Clarke.” His brown eyes flicked from Finn’s face to Clarke’s serene sleeping expression, then back to Finn.

            They both stood there staring at each other, Bellamy knowing what he saw wasn’t something he should have seen and Finn acknowledging this fact and silently pleading that Bellamy would forget it. It was Finn who spoke first, carefully choosing his words. “It’s not what you think it is.”

            “Whatever it was, it sure as hell didn’t look like something you should be doing with your girlfriend’s best friend.” Bellamy’s abated rage returned with a vengeance as he remembered Finn’s fingers brushing over Clarke’s flushed cheek.

            “She’s _sick_ ,” Finn quipped, his calm mask finally breaking apart, “You can’t lecture me on stuff I shouldn’t be doing anyway. You basically just _broke in_ …”

            “The door was unlocked,” Bellamy stated in a nonchalant tone, a half smile quirking one side of his mouth, “That’s not exactly breaking in.”

            Finn had nothing to say to that. He visibly swallowed and glanced down at Clarke. “You can’t tell Raven… or Clarke.” His eyes slowly slid back to Bellamy – Finn was begging now. “From man to man, just forget about it.”

            A scoff slipped through Bellamy’s teeth before he could restrain himself. “Man to man? No. You’re still a kid. A kid who’s fucking around a girl who loves him for a girl who doesn’t give a _shit_ about him.”

            Finn’s eyes fell to the floor and he sighed, his shoulders moving slightly with the action. “Yeah.”

            The room was completely still for a moment until a groggy noise made them both look in Clarke’s direction. Her blue eyes fluttered open and the first person she looked at was Bellamy. A lazy smile unfurled on her lips. “Bellamy,” she rasped sleepily, “What’re you doing here? You look horrible…”

            “Look who’s talkin’,” he wasn’t about to mention he felt as terrible as he supposedly looked, “I came by to check on you.”

            “Aw,” Clarke’s smile grew, “How thoughtful. I always knew you were a nice person deep down.” Her tone was somewhat sarcastic, which made Bellamy feel immensely better about her condition. If she was able to joke around, she wasn’t nearly as bad off as he had anticipated. He watched as her eyes slowly moved to Finn; her smile faded away immediately. “What are you doing?”

            Finn shrugged and looked at Bellamy with a blank expression. “Nothing. I was just showing Bellamy where your room was.” He took a few steps toward the door then glanced between Clarke and Bellamy, still wearing a composed mask. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” He disappeared into the hallway and shut the door behind him, not daring to look back.

            “He’s so _weird_ ,” Clarke mumbled as she struggled to try and sit up.

            “You got that right,” Bellamy’s eyes snapped from the door to Clarke, “Hey. What are you doing? Lay back down.” Sluggishly, he moved to sit in the now unoccupied chair next to Clarke’s bed. He pushed on her shoulder gently and she flopped back, sighing.

            “Stop acting like my dad,” Clarke groaned, giving him an over exaggerated look of annoyance.

            “It’s payback for all the times you act like my mom and tell me I should stop smoking.”

            She smiled at that and settled back into the mattress. “Fair enough, but you really should stop smoking,” she pointed out as she ran a hand through her damp hair.

            “See, there you go again,” he laughed hoarsely, “I can’t win with you.”

            Clarke snickered softly but her face was perturbed, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “You look sick.”

            With Finn out of the room, it was easier for Bellamy to speak freely with Clarke. “I feel like absolute shit,” he admitted as ran a hand over the back of his neck. The hair at the nape was soaked with sweat. “I’m blaming you for this.”

            For once, Clarke didn’t laugh at his joke. She pushed up on her elbows and examined Bellamy from where she lay. “You definitely have what I have.” She managed to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed. Just as Bellamy was about to protest again, Clarke pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. She frowned deeply and removed her hand from his burning skin. “Let me get you some medicine.”

            “I’m _fine_ ,” Bellamy insisted even as his head began to throb and the room began to swivel while he was sitting completely still.

            Clarke reached for the pills on her bedside table, popped open the bottle and dumped a few out into her hand. She grabbed Bellamy’s wrist with her other hand, forced his palm up and smacked the pills into his hand. “God, you’re so stubborn. Just take the damn pills. It’ll make you feel better until you can get some rest.”

            Bellamy sighed, knowing she was right, and threw back the capsules, dry swallowing them down. Clarke offered him a glass of room temperature water that looked like it had been sitting there for a few hours at least, but he took it gladly, thankful to not have the pills stuck in his throat. When he was finished, he handed an empty glass to Clarke, who smiled and placed it back on the table.

            “Thanks for saving me some,” she teased, punching Bellamy in the shoulder playfully. She seemed to be doing much better than he was; the final shreds of worry disappeared from his mind. Now the ache in his chest was no doubt related to whatever illness the two of them shared.

            “You look better,” Bellamy lolled his head back and closed his eyes, “That’s good. Means you can get back to work tomorrow.”

            Clarke was silent for a moment – long enough for Bellamy to pick his head up to look at her. He could tell there were words on the tip of her tongue that she was struggling to say. Finally, her clear voice broke through the silence. “Thank you for coming to see me,” she began slowly, her questioning eyes meeting his, “But why?”

            “Why?” he repeated in a lethargic voice, letting his head tip back again, “Because despite what everyone thinks, I _do_ care.”

            “I know that but Finn was here to make sure I didn’t die or anything. You didn’t _have_ to come.”

            “Tch,” Bellamy kissed his teeth, “He’s about as competent as my dead pet gerbil.” Clarke chuckled softly at that, but it was obvious she was still waiting for Bellamy’s answer. “I was worried,” his admission surprised him and he wondered if his sudden honesty stemmed from his fever, “Raven said you were really sick and I didn’t want to take a chance on Finn.”

            “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

            Bellamy was quiet for too long. Clarke reached over and touched his shoulder; he jerked awake in the chair, not even remembering slipping into slumber. “Sorry. Must be the fever.”

            Clarke stood and held out a hand for him to take. “You should take a nap and sleep off the fever. Our couch is a pullout. I’ll text Octavia and let her know you’re here.”

            Without pause, Bellamy took her hand and let her pull him up. He staggered slightly, but Clarke already had a strong arm wrapped around his waist. She manipulated his arm to dangle loosely over her shoulders. As she led him to the living room, he was already fading in and out of consciousness. He knew when he woke, he wouldn’t remember Clarke plopping him down on the loveseat while she pulled out the couch bed or her leading him over to the bed and throwing a light blanket over him. Before he knew it, he had fallen into a restless slumber, a fever dream playing behind his eyelids like an old 8mm film.

* * *

_His mother hadn’t been out of bed in days. The teachers from his school called the house every afternoon, but he was too scared to answer. He had to stay home and take care of his mom and his sister; school wasn’t important right now. He could always make up whatever he missed once his mom was better. Every couple of hours, Bellamy would leave Octavia in the living room with cartoons on to go check on his mom, who would always smile and thank him for being a good son. He could tell she wasn’t doing well. For days, he wanted to call for help, but she kept promising she would be fine. It was just the flu. She would be okay._

_When he woke up Tuesday morning, his mom was the worst he had seen her. She wasn’t making any sense when she talked, the medicine wasn’t working and she was in and out of consciousness. Bellamy checked on her every hour that day, bringing her a cold cloth for her burning forehead. In the evening, he had to find something to make for dinner, but the cabinets were barren. When he went to ask his mom if he could take some of the cash from her purse to go to the store, she wouldn’t wake up, even when he shook her. The still damp washcloth he had put on her head only half an hour ago felt hot when he took it away._

_The paramedics came. They tried to comfort him, to tell him that mommy was fine, but he knew she wasn’t. She was dead and it was his fault. He shouldn’t have listened to her. He should have called the doctors sooner._

_After they had taken her body away, the police officers came, and then the lady in the nice blouse and skirt. She made Bellamy and Octavia pack whatever things they could carry then she took them away from their house full of memories – a house they would never see again – and their lives changed._

* * *

            The mattress underneath him was entirely too uncomfortable to be his own. As he rolled onto his back, the springs creaked as they gave way; he could feel each individual coil pressing into his side. Slowly, Bellamy came to, only to realize wherever he was, it was very dark and quiet. He reassured himself it definitely wasn’t the afterlife – mostly because he had a blanket and the mattress was annoying, but not totally hellish. He tried to sit up but his body was too weak, not to mention his head throbbed every time he made the slightest movement. He attempted to hold his head up and look around, trying to make sense of the dark shapes surrounding him and his last memories.

            Just as he was beginning to feel anxiety that maybe he had died after all, there were footsteps somewhere close by and then a natural light came pouring in through a window as curtains and blinds were opened. He shielded his eyes from the sudden assault.

            “Warn a person first,” he mumbled hoarsely, peeking from behind his arm to see if his eyes would adjust better now. Clarke was moving around in front of the couch bed with a grin on her face. Bellamy’s brain was starting to fill in the gaps when she sat down at the edge.

            “How are you feeling?” Her voice was even, but he could hear the slightest bit of concern in her tone.

            “Don’t know yet…” he tried to sit up again and managed to get up onto an elbow. He ran his free hand through his messy hair. “How long was I out?”

            Clarke’s eyes shifted to the window for a second. “Well, it’s 11:30 now. You fell asleep yesterday evening and you were kind of up and down all night.”

            Bellamy couldn’t remember anything past sitting in Clarke’s room, talking with her about why he had come to see her. Everything else came in fragments: waking up from a fever dream and feeling a cool hand against his cheek, the sound of Octavia’s worried voice, someone forcing him to sit up to take pills, shouting voices in the hallway. He inhaled sharply as his chest seized up and he began coughing. Clarke reached over to put a hand on his shoulder until his fit stopped.

            Shaking his head, he looked at Clarke with watery, tired eyes. “I still feel like someone shot me in the chest.”

            Clarke shrugged. “I had to do it. You were acting crazy.”

            Bellamy was glad to see she was at least back to her old self. “That bad, huh? Maybe it was for the best then.”

            A small laugh was all he could drag out of Clarke. Either she was still worried or she had something else on her mind because her face had become stoic. After a moment of silence, she stood from the bed and headed across the room to grab her backpack off of the loveseat. “Raven is going to bring Octavia by around 3 to pick you up.” She cast a fleeting glance at Bellamy then turned to leave, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

            “Hey, wait…” His voice sounded softer than usual.

            “Hm?” Clarke turned slightly, but didn’t look at him.

            “Maybe you should take the day off. You were just sick yesterday and I need you back 110% tomorrow for training.”

            Clarke let a tiny smile twitch on her lips. “It’s okay. I slept in this morning and I feel fine. You’re the one that needs to rest.” She walked to the door and opened it before waving without turning to look at him. “Bye, Bellamy.”

            “See ya…” he muttered, not sure if she even caught what he had said before she was out the door.

            It took him a few tries but he was finally able to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. Once he felt confident he could stand without falling, he made his way down the hall, hoping he could find a bathroom somewhere. He remembered seeing two doors in Clarke’s room – one must have led to the closet and he assumed the other led to a bathroom. The door to her room was closed, but he barged in anyway. As he entered, his eyes moved to study the room that he hadn’t _really_ looked at yesterday. The walls were painted a very light green – so light that it almost appeared white where the light hit it – and sheer white curtains covered the windows. The bed had a white and silver fleur-de-lis patterned comforter on it that wasn’t crumpled like his – the bed was perfectly made. The room _felt_ like Clarke.

            In Clarke’s empty room, he stood, trying to remember the night before, but only shards of memories and fever dreams came to him. There, in the middle of a girl’s room he never thought he would like, he started to feel a strange gnawing in his chest that didn’t feel like the flu. It felt like loneliness, seeping into every air sac and filling his lungs until he couldn’t breathe.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING** : blood & torture [final two paragraphs]
> 
> Okay, here it is! The double update! So, I didn't get a chance to write anything on Sunday because I was feeling ill and I've had a very emotionally traumatic weekend. So here we go! Two chapters for you guys today! Woo hoo! So, for this first chapter, you get to see a little glimpse of a fight that occurred in the last chapter that Bellamy had been way too zonked out to remember. We'll get bits and pieces of this fight over the next several chapters, including this one, the next one and the one after that as well. Also, can I get an amen for Linctavia? I love writing these two. And who's this mystery woman with Lincoln? Hmm, I guess you'll just have to stick around and see (and of course guesses are always welcomed in the comments!). Enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for the next, which is going up right after this chapter is posted!

O C T A V I A

* * *

            Exhaustion was all Octavia could feel. After spending a few hours at Clarke and Raven’s the night before, she had gone back to an empty apartment. She wasn’t able to sleep much, the silence heavier than usual without her brother slumbering in the room next door. When she woke, she knew she hadn’t gotten a shred of decent sleep, but she rose wearily and dragged herself through her morning routine anyway, knowing that today hinged on her being up and ready to take on anything.

            When she arrived at work, Raven was already there, finishing what little paperwork was left from the night before and this morning. Unfortunately, without Bellamy at the shop, they wouldn’t be able to do any kind of appointments or consultations, so it was Raven’s job to call each customer and reschedule their work for a different time and date. Octavia, being manager of the day, decided it would be best to close shop around noon. She texted Clarke to let her know that Raven had offered to bring her by the apartment later, but failed to mention that she didn’t need to come in today. After everything that had happened last night, her mind was too much of a mess to remember hardly anything.

            The hours passed slowly. A little after noon, Octavia decided it was time to close up and head over to pick up Bellamy. Raven and Octavia made small talk as they drove, both too distracted by the previous night to have an actual conversation. As soon as they arrived, they both bolted up the stairs, a mutual understanding between them that they both needed a little time and it would be best to hurry this up.

            Bellamy was sitting on the couch when they arrived, a messy pile of blankets and pillows to his right keeping him from falling over. It was obvious he was still unwell, but he looked much better than he had the night before. Immediately, Octavia crossed the room and sat next to him, eyes roving over him.

            “How do you feel?” Octavia asked as she pushed his wavy bangs away from his forehead to test his temperature with the back of her hand. He swatted her away, yawning, but she was at least able to tell he wasn’t as feverish as last night.

            “Not great,” he followed up, voice still sounding raw and ragged, “But better.”

            Octavia breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was feeling a _little_ bit better. “Let’s get you home.” She stood and offered him a hand that he took hesitantly. He only swayed slightly when he stood up.

            Neither of them had noticed Raven in the archway, leaning against the wall furthest away from them, watching. With her hands on her hips, she stepped into view, ponytail swinging as she titled her head to one side. “You look like you’re doing a lot better than last night.” There was sincerity in her voice, but her eyes were hard brown stones that made Octavia’s stomach clench uncomfortably.

            “Yeah,” came Bellamy’s muttered reply as the two Blake siblings made their way across the living room, “Don’t really remember much honestly. Clarke said I was up and down but I was too out of it.”

            Octavia shot a relieved glance to Raven, but to O’s surprise, her mask of kindness cracked as she looked around the room. “Where is Clarke, anyway?” Raven’s words came slowly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

            Bellamy stared at her for a few seconds, confused, and Octavia could feel the panic drumming in her chest. “She didn’t go to work?”

            “Oh, shit…” Octavia cut in; Raven’s face went completely blank, “I forgot to tell her we were closing shop early. She’s probably on her way back here now.”

            “How would she even get to work without a ride?” Raven was staring at Octavia now, suppressed rage obvious in the shape of her mouth – lips pressed together in a hard line.

            O didn’t know why she was bothering to ask a question like that; Raven already knew the answer she was seeking. Maybe she just didn’t want to admit it to herself. Neither of them said anything else. Bellamy’s eyes flicked between the two of them before his jaw visibly clenched in understanding. An awkward air hung there between them all, so suffocating that Octavia felt like she was drowning.

            “Alright, bro, time to go.” She grabbed hold of Bellamy and started to lug him toward the door, casting a wary glance at Raven as she passed. No goodbyes were exchanged – Bellamy and Octavia left and Raven remained planted to her spot, staring past them at something they could not see.

            Helping Bellamy down the stairs and into the car was a hassle, but Octavia managed. Once they were both safely confined in the car, Octavia turned to her brother with a somber expression. “What do you remember, about last night?”

            “Next to nothing…” he lolled his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, “I already told you that.”

            The feeling of dread that bubbled beneath her skin made her hesitate. She turned her eyes ahead and remained silent until Bellamy cracked open an eyelid to look at her.

            “There’s something you’re not saying, O. Spit it out.”

            Starting the car gave her some time to think about how she should begin, but it sputtered to life far too quickly. Thankfully, she was able to come up with one sentence that was as delicate as possible given the situation.

            “You said some things you probably shouldn’t have.”

            “Like what?”

            When Octavia glanced sideways at her brother, she could tell he was interested and also extremely worried. His face may not have shown it, but it was there, in his tone and in his stance, so minute that even Octavia hadn’t caught it immediately. Now, she needed to choose how to proceed carefully. So much had happened, it was hard to pick out something that might have been considered less severe than some of the other events that transpired.

            She decided chronologically relaying the details would be her best bet at this point. “At first, you were just talking gibberish, like how people do when they have a high fever. We were trying to get you to take pills to knock out the fever, but you wouldn’t take them from anyone but Clarke…” She paused, gave her brother another sidelong glance then continued as her eyes fixed to the road once again. “You were talking about Finn and about protecting Clarke.”

            Her brother shifted in his seat, but Octavia didn’t take her eyes off of the road. She could feel his eyes on her but she would not look.

            “What about Finn… and Clarke?” His tone may have been steady, but O heard worry before a sliver of anger threatened to take over.

            “You were talking to Clarke and you told her that Finn was in love with her, that you saw him in her room while she was sick. You said you were so worried that he was going to try to hurt her and Raven. That you were trying to protect her.”

            Octavia didn’t know how long they remained silent, but she could practically hear the gears in Bellamy’s head turning. It wasn’t until they pulled into the parking lot in front of their apartment building and O had turned off the engine that Bellamy turned to her and started to speak.

            “What happened after that?”

            Octavia shrugged and let her head fall back against the headrest. She stared at the ceiling of the car and studied the water damage that had seeped through the old sunroof and stained the fabric around its edges. “It caused a fight. Raven started pointing a finger at Finn, who started making up excuses, all while Clarke was trying to diffuse the situation by saying she didn’t remember and we couldn’t trust what you said while you weren’t even _really_ conscious. But then Raven started putting the blame on Clarke, trying to accuse her of covering it up, that maybe she had faked being sick in the first place to be alone with Finn…”

            A humorless, fleeting laugh erupted from Bellamy’s throat – it was so loud and sudden that Octavia jumped before she turned to stare at her brother, wide-eyed.

            “So, you’re saying that basically Raven didn’t want to take Clarke’s side over Finn’s,” he shook his head in disappointment, turning his head to stare out of the window, “She might have book smarts but she doesn’t have much common sense.”

            “You didn’t let me finish,” Octavia snapped at him, annoyed that her brother was doing exactly what Raven had last night. He was too quick to assume something based on a small detail of the bigger picture. Maybe she was like that too sometimes, but he definitely jumped to conclusions much faster than she ever did. Especially when it involved people he cared about. “Clarke did that thing she does where she talks everyone down. Raven was pissed at Finn though – broke it off with him – then everyone went about their business. I mean, it wasn’t really that great being around two roommates who had just gotten into a huge fight over a boy who’s not even _that_ attractive, but whatever. I left after Raven went to hide in her room and Clarke said she was going to make a bed in the living room so she could watch you for the rest of the night.”

            Bellamy seemed to be thinking for a long time – maybe too long – before he clicked the lock on his door and slid out of the car without a word. Octavia followed close behind as he walked up the stairs; to her utmost delight, she didn’t have to catch him falling down the stairs or something. They got into the apartment without incident and Bellamy went straight to his room. Octavia didn’t like the following silent tension that filled every crevice of their apartment. She checked the fridge and pantry, hoping that they needed milk or eggs or _something_ , but the kitchen was fully stocked from her shopping trip less than a week ago. With Bellamy sulking in his room, Clarke missing in action and Raven pouting over Finn, she felt like today would be the perfect day for a ride.

* * *

            The snow from a few days ago had completely melted now and the temperature had been sitting at a comfortable 72 degrees since around 11, which made it perfect riding weather. As soon as Octavia whipped out of the neighborhood, she was speeding, trying to forget the night before or the look on her brother’s face as he receded into his room for God only knew how long. She had neglected to tell him about what else he had said in his fevered state – the whimpers of a child who still blamed himself for his mother’s death.

            It was no secret how their mother had passed away and Octavia knew too well that it was a burden Bellamy had shouldered for so long it could crush him under its weight sometimes. She didn’t share that burden and that made her feel guilty. She had been too young, too defenseless to help anyone, not even herself. She only blamed herself for not being able to lift that weight for her brother sometimes; she had all but convinced herself that maybe there were troubles that no one else could bare because they were far too heavy and this was one of them.

            Reminding him of this burden would remind him of all the times he had, in his mind, failed their family. Their mother’s death, the years of being in and out of foster care, and the legal battle he fought to get Octavia out of homes and into a stable living environment with him once he turned eighteen. Octavia had had it easy, comparatively, and she hated dwelling on the past. Her brother consumed himself with it – no matter the fact that the plush inheritance they had received on their eighteenth birthdays plus a check in the mail from an unknown sender every month kept their bills paid and food on their table. While he lingered in the past, Octavia strove for the future, using what she learned from her mistakes to never make them again. That was why she had every intention of keeping her mouth shut about last night and she only hoped that Clarke, Raven and Finn would do the same.

            When the orange late afternoon glow had started to set in, Octavia pulled off into a desolate lot just outside of a walking trail through the woods. She had never really thought to come to a place like this before, but she didn’t want to go home and it seemed like a good place to hide for a while. Once it started to get dark, she would head back and hope that her brother had at least come out of his cave by then. She parked the bike as close to the mouth of the trail as she could before heading down the beaten dirt path into the forest.

            She walked for at least a mile, enjoying the peaceful sounds of nature that echoed around her – the shift of branches in the wind, the crackling of twigs under the tiny feet of squirrels, birds calling to one another in the distance. Here, Octavia felt like she was in another world, one that she only visited in dreams. She ran her fingers along the cool trunk of a towering oak and the rough texture against her skin gave her the sense of déjà vu. She tipped her head back to glance up at the thick canopy of leaves above, long brunette hair cascading down her back and swaying in the gentle breeze.

            For a moment, she was completely still, savoring the warmth of the late afternoon and the safety of the trees around her, but a sound and movement in her periphery made her step back and look around. She wagered it was a person walking their dog or a couple enjoying a nice stroll together, but when her eyes finally found the figure that had caught her attention, she froze.

            _Lincoln._

            He was just off the path, sitting hunched over what looked like a sketchbook. He wasn’t looking at her – on the contrary, he was focusing on something deep within the forest. His head moved slightly each time he looked between his page and whatever he was sketching. Octavia took a few quiet steps forward, careful not to disturb him, but when the leaves crunched under her boots, Lincoln’s dark eyes found her. From here, she could see over his shoulder to the sketch he had been working on – a pencil drawing of a large, moss and fungus covered oak. Each detail was precise, almost exactly true to the scene in front of them. Octavia’s jaw dropped without realizing it.

            “Wow…” she whispered, as if speaking too loudly might somehow disturb the balance of nature, “That’s amazing.”

            Lincoln turned to her, his brown eyes smiling before his lips could catch up. “So we meet again, Octavia.” His massive hands seemed too large to be delicate, but they were as he carefully replaced his pencil in a small pouch that appeared to contain more art supplies. When he closed the leather cover of his sketchbook, Octavia couldn’t help noticing the flower engraved on it in white ink – it was identical to the one he had given her the first time they had met.

            “Yeah…” O mumbled as she moved to take a seat next to Lincoln, “Fate or something, right? That’s what it feels like. That or you’re really a stalker that can read minds.”

            Lincoln’s smile faded and his eyes fell to his sketchbook; he ran his calloused fingers over the faded white indentations. “Fate,” he repeated back to her, lifting his eyes, “Or destiny. Whichever you prefer.”

            Octavia couldn’t help laughing softly at that. “Is there a difference or are you trying to sound all deep?”

            A half smile pulled up one side of Lincoln’s mouth. “They say they are the same, but I don’t think so. Fate is more of divine intervention whereas destiny isn’t. Fate can’t change its course but destiny can depending on the choices we make in our lives.”

            “Are you a philosophy student or something? Because it sounds like you’re really in your element with this whole destiny/fate thing.” Her teasing was met with a grand smile – if it had been wider, Lincoln would have flashed his teeth.

            “No, but when you spend most of your time out in the forest, you have time to ponder such ideas.” He stood then, and Octavia suddenly remembered his monumental height. He reminded her of the solid, wise, colossal oaks that surrounded them. When he offered her a hand, she took it without thought, allowing him to bring her to her feet with ease.

            “Or you forget all your thoughts,” came Octavia’s reply as her eyes scanned the forest around them, “You can definitely lose yourself here and forget all of the bad things in your life.”

            Lincoln nodded his head in agreement, looking around them as well. “Everyone reacts differently to their environment,” his brown eyes found her face again, “What brings you here?”

            “Bad thoughts,” she admitted, perhaps too easily to someone who was almost a complete stranger to her. She put a hand on her hip. “What about you? Besides your art and the fact that it’s one of the nicest days we’ve had in like, _months._ ”

            “Bad thoughts,” he echoed her words as he tucked away his sketchbook into a satchel she hadn’t even seen hidden amongst the leaves littering the forest floor. Carefully, he slung it over his shoulder and stepped through the foliage, back to the trail. Even with the overlapping branches above them holding out the light, Octavia could tell the sun was starting to set. The afternoon glow had already turned dusky, with slats of soft pink light filtering through the spaces above them. Lincoln turned to Octavia then and smiled his oddly befitting tranquil smile.

            “I’m sorry we couldn’t have met earlier in the day,” his apology was true, O could see it in his eyes and the way his smile lessened slightly, “I have somewhere I need to be now.”

            Octavia grabbed Lincoln’s wrist; she wasn’t surprised that her fingers couldn’t completely enclose around it. “I’ll see you again, right?” Her tone wasn’t desperate or pleading but there was the smallest hue of anxiety in her voice. Already, she shared such a special bond with this man she barely knew. He was a breath of fresh air compared to her dull work life and over dramatic home life. She didn’t _need_ him, but she did _want_ him. She wanted him to be a lingering presence – the steadfast oak tree she could cling to when the wind got too strong and threatened to blow her away.

            “Yes,” Lincoln assured her, placing his hand over hers, “It’s destiny, isn’t it?”

            “Or fate,” she reminded, a toothy smile spreading across her face and lighting up her green eyes.

            A faint smile ghosted over Lincoln’s lips, but it was short-lived; Lincoln quickly drew away from her as his eyes snapped to someone over Octavia’s shoulder. She turned to see a tall woman coming toward them – her arms, chest and neck were covered in vibrant tattoos, contrasting with Lincoln’s black ink, and her unkempt dirty blonde hair reminded O of a bad 80s hair metal band. The woman’s cat-like eyes immediately snapped to Octavia then back to Lincoln before narrowing into thin slits.

            “Who’s this?” Her voice was venomous and the sneer that contorted her face reminded Octavia not of a cat, but of a snake.

            Lincoln’s eyes shot to Octavia’s and she could see the apology behind his rich brown irises. “No one.”

            His cold reply was like an icy dagger through Octavia’s heart that quickly melted into white-hot rage coursing through her veins. She wanted to speak out, but she knew that she couldn’t – Lincoln’s eyes had already told her to bite her tongue.

            “Then let’s go,” her tone was still suspicious, but she didn’t press any further. As Lincoln began to walk away, back in the direction the woman had come from, the woman gave Octavia the once over – or rather _thrice_ over – before turning herself and following behind him.

            “Destiny, huh?” Octavia muttered to herself when the two of them were out of earshot. She turned and started walking in the direction opposite of them, toward the lot she had parked in. “Destiny’s bullshit.”

            Her walk back was not as pleasant as the walk there had been. The negative thoughts were so hard to ignore when they were so fresh. Octavia found herself wondering who that woman was and what her relationship was to Lincoln. Was she his girlfriend? It would definitely explain the harshness of her actions, but it wasn’t a theory that Octavia liked very much. It could have been his sister or another family member – too often had she scared away Bellamy’s girlfriends and even some of his male friends with her attitude. She only wanted the best for her brother so maybe it was something like that. Maybe she had felt a duty to protect her family and Octavia couldn’t blame her for that. Still, she felt the bitterness that made her stomach queasy and her thoughts irrational.

            When she finally made it back to her bike, it was dark and the temperature had dropped significantly. She felt so emotionally exhausted that riding home felt like a chore rather than the escape she needed. Thankfully, when she made it home, Bellamy had come out of his room and was sitting on the sofa flipping aimlessly through the channels on TV. He didn’t say anything to her – one look and he knew she needed her space just like he had before – and let her retreat to her room, though the curiosity and worry was there as always in the crease of his brow and the set of his jaw.

            If there was a heaven, her bed was as close as a still breathing human could get to it on this planet. The warmth of her comforter around her immediately lulled her into a deep sleep, the mental and physical exhaustion from the last 48 hours too great for her to keep her eyes open any longer. When she dreamed, she dreamed of the forest without paths or signs to lead the way. Lincoln was there, waiting for her with open arms. She could feel the smile on her face as she moved forward, wanting to feel his sturdy arms like the trees’ branches around her, giving her safety. But just as she was close enough to touch him, a clawed hand tore at his shoulder, bright red blood gushing from his fresh wound. Octavia stared in horror as more spindly fingers with long talons surrounded Lincoln, carving what looked like a word into his broad chest.

            When they had finished their work, the largest pair of hands held Lincoln by the wrists while two others enclosed around his ankles – like shackles on a prisoner. For the first time, Octavia could see the word carved into his chest, red and oozing at the jagged edges of torn skin. The hole that one word opened in her chest was massive; the edges throbbed, raw like the deep cuts on Lincoln’s chest. Her breath would not come and her feet would not move and her words were lost in her mind. All she could do was stare and stare and stare until her eyes burned from the intense red that seemed to throb in sync with the abyss that must have been her heart once.

_TRAITOR_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter of the double update! Hooray for a new character (but boo, because Finn). I struggled with this chapter, but it was really necessary for a plot device later on down the line, so it had to be here. Finn wants to have his cake and eat it too, apparently. I'm quite enjoying playing out Clarke's dislike for him a little more than what was shown in the show. Does anyone else think everyone is overreacting a little bit about Finn stroking Clarke's face lovingly? Well, there's a story behind that that's going to be in the next chapter! And like I said before, boo Finn, he's creepy! (Can you tell I don't care for Finn?) Anyway, the meat of this fight will be revealed in the coming chapter which will also be from a new character's point of view. Plus, new characters are going to be debuting next chapter and I know you all can't wait for that! Have any guesses? Leave them in the comments! Thank you as always and enjoy!

FINN

* * *

            Sleep didn’t come easy. Words that he didn’t expect to hear so soon kept echoing in his head as the rising sun splashed a dark shade of blue over everything in sight. The sunrise was underwhelming at best, something that felt very fitting after what had happened less than 8 hours ago. On the balcony of his tiny studio apartment with a pack of stale cigarettes he had bought over a year ago, Finn watched the sun come up alone for the first time in months.

            It had been his fault; he had to keep reminding himself of that. If he hadn’t visited Clarke in her room yesterday, things wouldn’t have happened the way they did. He couldn’t have known Bellamy would show up, but it could have been much worse. It could have been _Raven_ walking in on the scene that would surely have caused red flags to go up. That would have been a nightmare. He was sort of glad that it happened the way it did. He didn’t blame Bellamy, or Clarke, or Raven – he was the only one to blame here and he knew that. He had to keep saying it in his head.

_You can’t be mad at anyone else. You did this. You fucked it up._

            As the morning went on, the chill gradually faded away, but the cold had already settled into his marrow and now streamed through his veins with each beat of his heart. Raven calling it quits meant there was no hope for him to get closer to _anyone_ he cared about. He knew he didn’t love Raven – not in the way she loved him – but she still meant so much to him that it hurt to think about the dead look in her eyes when she told him to leave. And Clarke – who had never liked Finn in the first place – most likely hated him now and would never want to speak to him again.

            So, when his phone vibrated at around 10:30, he was surprised – first, because he wasn’t expecting anyone to text him at all and second, it was Clarke. The text was simple: she needed a ride to work, he was the only person available and she wanted to have a “civil discussion” about last night. He smoked the last of the stale cigarettes before agreeing to take her to work then threw on a new T-shirt and headed for her apartment.

            Maybe he hadn’t fucked everything up after all.

            As soon as he pulled up in front of the building, there was Clarke, her blonde hair glistening in the late morning sun. Seeing her there, no matter how blank her expression was, sure beat the hell out of sitting at home and pitying himself for the rest of the day. When she reached the passenger side door, she threw it open and slid in with ease, placing her backpack on her lap.

            “Hey,” Finn greeted cheerfully, just happy to see Clarke.

            “You can cut the act, Finn,” Clarke’s voice was extremely even. She definitely didn’t share his sentiment. “I know you’re upset about last night and I can imagine it’s very difficult for you. I don’t want you to force yourself to be happy just because you’re in the presence of another human being.”

            Finn furrowed his brows as he turned around in a parking space and headed for the exit to the neighborhood. “I can’t be happy to see you? Honestly, after last night, I thought you’d never want to talk to me again.”

            Clarke didn’t mince words. “I didn’t really have a choice,” she said flatly, shifting her pack off of her lap and onto the floor. She turned her gaze toward him, “And I have questions for you.”

            “Okay…” he drawled dubiously, masking his discomfort by trying to remain as expressionless as possible, “Say your piece.”

            She had been thinking about this because she started in right away, knowing exactly what she wanted to ask him. “Is it true, what Bellamy said?”

            “Bellamy said a lot of things, Clarke,” Finn countered as a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

            “Fair enough,” she quickly corrected herself, “You were in my room already when he got there?”

            “Yes.” He had no intentions of lying.

            “Okay,” she seemed to gain a bit more confidence with that answer, “He said he saw you touching me…”

            “It wasn’t anything weird,” Finn interrupted before she could make it into a question, “I was watching you sleep and I touched your cheek, that’s all it was.”

            “That _is_ weird, considering I’m your girlfrien—“

            “ _Ex_ -girlfriend,” Finn corrected, causing Clarke to sigh in annoyance.

            “Whatever. Okay, I’m your _ex_ -girlfriend’s roommate and best friend. You being in my room while I’m sleeping is creepy. You touching my face while I’m sleeping is creepy. _You_ are just creepy.”

            “Thanks,” his voice was laden with heavy sarcasm, “Really helps my self-esteem.”

            Clarke chuckled humorlessly. “I’m not looking out for your self-esteem. I’m being serious. You’ve always kind of creeped me out.”

            Finn sighed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “Can you get to the point, please?”

            “So Bellamy saw you touching my face. Then what happened?”

            “He talked some shit, basically said that I was fucking myself and Raven over for a girl I,” he paused and amended his original thought, “ _care about_.”

            “And he was right to say that.”

            Finn nodded, knowing that Bellamy had, in fact, been right. This whole situation proved that fact. “I know.”

            “So…?”

            “So, you woke up and I left.”

            For a moment, Clarke paused to consider the story. After what felt like hours, he saw her make a motion in his periphery – a small nod to herself – before she turned in her seat slightly to look at him. He could feel the pressure of her stare and Finn suddenly wished he hadn’t agreed to this. It felt more like a criminal interrogation than a “civil discussion”, as Clarke had phrased it.

            The next thing he knew, she was rattling off more questions, but they required more careful consideration and thought when answering.

            “Do you love Raven?”

            “Yeah. Of course.”

            “In what way?”

            His immediate reaction was to lie and tell her he was in love with Raven but he knew Clarke. He knew she would see right through him. “At first, I thought it was love, but it’s not. Raven’s like my best friend.”

            “So basically, you’re saying she’s like a friend with benefits?” Clarke countered, visibly frowning.

            “No, no, no,” Finn shook his head, floppy hair getting in his eyes momentarily, “Not like that. I mean, the sex is great, yeah, but it’s not like a requirement for me to keep caring about her.”

            Clarke considered this for a moment, her eyes on her hands. When she lifted her blue hues to him once again, Finn knew that the next question on her tongue was the one she had _really_ come here to ask.

            “Is it true?” she trailed off for a moment, pressing her lips together to keep her face neutral, “Are you in love with me?”

            Finn opened his mouth to say something then thought better of it. He wasn’t about to launch into some hefty explanation of all the things he loved about Clarke. All she needed was a yes or a no. He solemnly nodded once.

            “Yes.”

            “Why?” came her immediate reaction before the one syllable word had even finished passing through Finn’s lips.

            Finn turned sharply into the tattoo parlor’s parking lot and stopped his Jeep across two spaces. He threw the gearshift into PARK and turned to look at Clarke with emotion burning behind his eyes.

            “Because you’re _you._ ”

            “You’re off to a weak start with that one.”

            Finn sighed and pushed on. “You’ve got a good sense of humor, you’re smart, you know what you want out of life…”

            “Raven has those exact same qualities.”

            “No, _Clarke_ ,” Finn was starting to get agitated with her interruptions and belittling attitude, “You don’t get it, okay? So Raven’s got all those traits too, I get that and I see them and appreciate them—“

            “Do you?”

            “ _Damn it, Clarke_. Can you please let me talk? This is what you wanted, right? To talk? So let me!”

            That shut her up. Finn launched back into his speech, his words coming faster as if to get them all out before Clarke cut him off again. “I don’t know what it is that makes you different, but there’s _something_. I can’t figure it out and it drives me crazy. _You_ drive me crazy, Clarke.”

            She was quiet for a minute then she shook her head and stared at Finn intensely. “I don’t even know who you are.”

            “And I don’t know who you are, either – not really. That’s the thing about relationships: you don’t know a damn thing about the person then you get to know them—“

            “And sometimes, you end up hating that person.”

            “And sometimes you don’t!”

            “It would never work, Finn,” Clarke stated stoically, putting her hand on the handle of the car door, “Raven’s my best friend. We live together. She’d never agree to this.”

            “Raven will _get the hell over it_.”

            Clarke whipped her head around with so much force Finn thought she was going to come at him across the center console. Thankfully, it was only her eyes that burned with rage. “Do you think I’m the kind of person to hurt my friends? Raven is my _best friend_. Why would I jeopardize my relationship with her over _some boy_?”

            The poison laced in those last two words made Finn’s skin crawl. He resigned from the argument, letting his head fall back against the headrest. “Okay. You win.”

            “Glad we can agree on something,” Clarke shot him the tiniest, mocking smile before unbuckling her seatbelt and shoving the car door open. She yanked her backpack off the floor and made a point to slam the door behind her, shaking the entire car. Finn watched as she crossed the parking lot to the front doors and realized that this was it. This was the last time he would see her.

            But he was wrong. He knitted his brows in confusion as she came back to the car and beat on the window with her fist. He rolled it down and stared at her, puzzled. “What?”

            “No one’s in there. They must have closed up shop and forgot to tell me,” he couldn’t tell if the annoyance in her voice was because she hadn’t been warned or if she knew she didn’t have a choice but to ride back with Finn.

            “Okay, well, get back in then…” Finn muttered, unlocking the doors while still feeling a little dumbfounded.

            Clarke shook her head. “I’m going to walk home. I’ll be fine. Just go.”

            “Clarke.” He would beg her if he had to.

            “There’s bus stop not too far from here. I can take it down to the grocery store by the apartment and I’ll have Raven come and pick me up there.” She turned to walk away.

            “Don’t do this. C’mon. I can give you a ride home. You don’t even have to talk to me.”

            Clarke spun on her heel and stared at him with narrowed eyes. “And what will Raven think when she sees us in the same car together after what you did and the fight last night?”

            She had a point, but Finn didn’t want to give up. “I’ll tell her I wanted to apologize to you.”

            “Which is a lie,” Clarke pointed out, adjusting one of the straps on her backpack, “You don’t need to dig your grave any deeper when you’re already six feet under.”

            That was that. Finn had nothing else to say. As Clarke began to walk away, he knew he had lost this fight. He watched her until she was just a black dot in the distance before pulling out of the lot and leaving. Instead of heading home, however, he decided to go somewhere else.

            He was going to go see Raven and apologize for what he did. He was going to make things right. Clarke wasn’t wrong; he had dug this hole of lies and excuses and now he had to live with the consequences. The first step to fixing it would be to mend his relationship with Raven. And then, he would do what he knew seemed impossible at the time – he would forget about Clarke Griffin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's note** 4/24:   
>  Hey guys! I'm so sorry for my absence. Things have been a bit hectic here on my end and I know that I promised updates a few weeks ago and never got around to them. I will be resuming regular update schedule ASAP. I plan to post either tomorrow, 4/25, or Sunday, 4/26. The newest chapter has been started, it just hasn't been completed. I may also be changing the update schedule as far as the days of the week I update. I really do apologize for my extended absence and I hope you all continue to read! Thank you!


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